


sharks and sugar

by fragileizy



Series: Sharks and Sugar [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: ??? - Freeform, AU NYC special, AdriNoire, Adrinette | Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Angst and Fluff, CHAT BLANC HAS ARRIVED, Chat Blanc - Freeform, Classroom Shenanigans, F/M, Highschool Parties, Identity Reveal, Lady Noire - Freeform, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug has ADHD, Miraculous Side Effects, Miraculous Switcharoo, Mister Bug, Reverse Lovesquare AU, Reverse Miraculous AU, adrien is constantly facepalming, adrien really likes eating cookies, but it's. a chat with a civilian. idk what to tag that as, does this count as Marichat?, entirely adrien pov, fuck it, is that a real tag, marinette as chat blanc, marinette is a perfect class president, no i would say no, noire is cute and i love her, noire makes too many puns, oooh boy get ready for the tags, slight angst, time to make brand new tags for this story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 87,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28640439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragileizy/pseuds/fragileizy
Summary: Mister Bug's greatest downfall would be Marinette's eyes. He hoped Noire could forgive him for that.Adrien’s greatest downfall would be Lady Noire’s smile. He hoped Marinette could forgive him for that.--In which Lady Noire keeps coming into Adrien's room after akuma attacks and he just. Lets her.Which is fine. Really.He's more focused on other things, like Marinette-- a sweet, kind, wonderful classmate who he just can't seem to talk to without stammering.His partner, Noire, is quickly becoming his best friend. But, seriously-- how bad can it be for the both of them if he continues to let her come over?--(a Miraculous Reversal and Lovesquare Reversal AU)
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: Sharks and Sugar [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2194407
Comments: 53
Kudos: 186





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AceBlueCookie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceBlueCookie/gifts).



> Yohoho! Welcome to the new year!
> 
> I have a lot of fanfics planned! I can't wait to share them all with you this year! It'll be great!
> 
> I'm hoping that this story gets to around 50k words, give or take. It'll be a short one but definitely a good one!
> 
> Enjoy! <3

Truly, it was a miracle that she hadn’t hurt herself yet. She spun her compacted bo staff between her dexterous fingers so quickly that the object blurred in her hand, babbling about something or the other about the importance of him being able to do things without his father knowing, before dissolving into a frightened stare in his direction.

He raised a brow at her, one hand on his hip and the other on the light switch, laughing softly to himself at the way she squeaked. As if he was any match to her staff. He’d seen the way she could launch akumas and sentimonsters flying with the force of her upper arm strength, using the staff like a bat. Her eyes widened at the windowsill, deer in headlights at the sight of him completely drenched from the showerhead, her bo staff snapping into her hand in a relaxed position.

“Need something?” He was finally able to break the silence after a few moments, letting water droplets from his hair sprinkle on his waterlogged polo shirt. Noire’s eyes flitted up to meet his after a long trek up his wet arms, watching a water droplet disappear down the crook of his elbow. His cheeks heated at her staring, the edges of his lips twitching at the scrutiny.

“Oh. Hi, Adrien. I didn’t know you were in here. I thought you were in your room.”

“Liar.” He rolled his eyes.

She winced. “Honestly, I swear.”

“I thought you had amazing hearing? Did you not hear me open the door?” She was always telling everyone and everything that would listen that she would always be able to hear cries of help from miles away. And not to worry, because she was unmatched to see in the dark. No akuma could compare to her when she was bound in hexleather, that she could fight in complete darkness if she needed to. Hawkmoth had even given up on making akumas that would take away normal human senses, Noire was that good at it.

He had to admit, Noire’s eyesight and advanced hearing was always helpful in battle. She successfully picked up tidbits from fights that he just wouldn’t have been able to get by himself. Other than her invaluable companionship, he always felt safer knowing that she was with him.

“I guess it’s not as good as I had thought!” Her laughter was forced and rough, and Adrien watched unimpressed at how she clicked her compacted staff behind her to rest at her hip. She gestured towards him, head tilting to the side in confusion. “I didn’t mean to walk in on your clearly busy night. What… are you doing, anyway?”

“I’m heading to the bathroom because I heard a noise coming from the windowsill. I tried turning on the light to see what it was but I ended up turning on the showerhead.”

Rich peals of laughter came easy from her, and he fought himself to not laugh with her, trying to keep a stern look on his face. “Well it’s not my fault your light fixture is next to the shower handle. Who lives like that, anyway?”

“Rich people,” He scrunched his nose at her, trying to look as offended as possible but failing. He couldn’t really be angry with her. “You’re not off the hook, you little cat. What are you doing at a civilian’s house in the middle of the night?”

He didn’t know what time it was, but it was early enough in the night that Tikki hadn’t tried to convince him to sleep for the night, quoting something about how being better rested would keep him more awake during times of need if there were akumas the following day. He heard the same spiel from the kwami nearly every night, and he’s gotten accustomed to tuning it out in favor of finishing his homework on time. He looked down to his watch for good measure, trying to gauge how close he was to the actual time.

“Not the middle of the night! It’s probably around nine, or something.” She almost looked comfortable on the windowsill, one slender leg dangling while the other kept her supported on the small ledge. She was almost about the size of the window, perfectly nested in between the top frame and the bottom as if she belonged anywhere in his room, the tops of her hexleather ears grazing against the top frame. She took to swinging her tail to keep herself occupied since she’d put away her staff, pretending to check her own watch that she didn’t have on her wrist. She shrugged. “Not sure. I left my house as soon as my family finished dinner together. Don’t act like I don’t show up here every night. I came to check out how my favorite fashion model has been doing!”

“I think you’re just looking for reasons to show up,” He couldn’t help himself from smiling at her knowingly, wiping a hand across his wet face to try to get as many droplets off. He grabbed the nearest towel to wipe at his hair. He was going to have so much bed head when he woke up the next day. “Are you here to organize my sock drawer again? Very important Hero of Paris work.”

She leaned down towards him when he walked closer to her, her long braided hair dangling from her shoulder like rope, the green ribbon at the end hypnotizing. “Nah, I think I’ve done all your drawers already. But it’s important to be organized, you know.”

“You know I have maids to do the cleaning. I don’t need a superhero to do that.” He tugged at her ankle with barely any force to it, content enough to just see her feet swing down and try to worm out of his loose grip.

“Well, you’re welcome anyways. Now you don’t need a maid to clean up after you. See? Saving you money, like a good Hero of Paris should do.” Her calves were lithe and slender, he noticed. Her hexleather had no obvious plating or armor-like qualities to them, unlike his own suit. Noire moved like the night was hers, light on her feet and with fluidity that brought real cats to shame.

He wiped at the bottom side of his jaw with his towel, trying to catch her gaze. “Why are you really here, Noire?”

“I told you already. I wanted to see how you were doing.” If Adrien didn’t know how to read her well enough, he would have missed her worried expression behind that soft smile. It was more in the way her eyes strained behind the hexleather domino mask, neon green eyes swirling with emotion that he couldn’t place. “How’s your ribs? I don’t like how you’re not taking cover in the middle of an akuma battle.”

“It’s alright. The miraculous cure healed me up. It’s getting kind of old, isn’t it? Running for your life?” The argument sounded poor even for him, and he wasn’t sure what he could say to fix it. “I mean, well, I just don’t fear getting hit anymore. You and Mister Bug are always there to save the day. What’s the problem if I get hurt along the way if it will just get reversed?”

It didn’t help that whenever he did actually run for his life under the assumption that he would be able to find a back alley to transform in, Lady Noire always found him ‘cowering’ (read: in the middle of searching for Tikki in his pocket to go through his transformation) behind a dumpster or an air conditioning unit, and took him far away from the fight.

“No, I don’t agree. Adrien, I don’t like that you’re using yourself as a bodybag.” She sighed. “Especially since you’re a civilian. You don’t have superhero powers to withstand akuma attacks. You can get  _ really _ hurt. You’re going to give me a heart attack if you keep body slamming akumas. I have to focus on the fight, but I can’t do that when you’re running into battle as if you can fight the akuma in hand to hand combat.”

“Believe me, I don’t want to go head to head with any of them. I just feel useless not being able to help you.” He hoped his lie was believable enough. Lady Noire could handle herself just fine. Overpowered senses aside, she always had a good grip on the fight by the time he showed up. Her bo staff was one hell of a bat when she wanted it to be. Not to mention she clearly had professional training in some type of martial arts.

“You can help me by staying behind, letting me and Mister Bug take care of it. Please. Promise me you’ll stop.” She stopped chewing on her lip to step down from the windowsill, allowing Adrien’s neck to relax from looking up at too steep of an angle. She came up to his collarbone at her full height, and without fail he had to violently stamp down the urge to pat her on the head whenever she was this close.

He pretended to give the topic some thought, placing his towel back on the towel rack with enough care that she wouldn’t complain at how untidy he was. “Alright. I promise. On the condition that if I step away to change my wet clothes, you won’t go pawing through my bathroom cabinets.”

“Awh. No fun.” He left her in the bathroom with the knowledge that his toothbrush would be misplaced by the time he got back. He couldn’t stop the smile on his face from widening. “It’s not like I can’t smell what shampoo you use, anyway. What’s the fun of hiding the brand name from me?”

“A man has to keep some secrets up his sleeves.” He pulled the polo off by the collar, searching his drawers for a suitable replacement. He slipped open his second drawer and gave Tikki a knowing shrug. The kwami giggled silently behind her two red paws, snuggled up in between two different pairs of socks that Noire had spent an afternoon organizing. The two of them had learned almost a year ago that it was easier to let Noire hang out in his room for as long as she wanted than to try to push her out.

“Do people know that you use acne wash?” He hoped Hawkmoth didn’t know just how easy it was to distract her, or Paris would definitely be in trouble.

“If they did, it would probably be trending on the internet for a full day, I bet.” He made sure to change out of his clothes quick enough before she realized he was gone.

“The famous Adrien Agreste uses  _ dandruff _ shampoo. How embarrassing.”

“The best part about all of this is that no one will believe you if you try telling people.” He came back to the bathroom, reclothed, and leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, watching her tail swish behind her as half of her body disappeared into his cabinets. He wondered if his artesanal collection of beard wash would survive her curiosity.

“My god. You’re right.” She poked her head up, nodded at his new shirt, before diving back. “Even if I shared this with a photo of your cabinet, no one would know it was really  _ Adrien Agreste’s _ cabinet. Also I think Mister Bug would be really disappointed in me technically misusing my Miraculous to get into a guy’s house.”

Adrien’s eyebrow twitched, suddenly worried. “Do you? Normally do this with guys?”

“What, come into their house at night?” She knocked over his aftershave bottle with her elbow, but caught it before it fell onto the floor. Cat-like reflexes, of course. “Of course not. You’re the only one who gets the special treatment, Monsieur Agreste.”

He refused to acknowledge how the knot in his stomach that had formed quickly disappeared into nothing. “Is it because I’m famous?”

“Not at all, Mister Ego-tistical. I just find you easy to talk to.” She turned an unopened bottle of conditioner in her hand, her black domino mask moving to imply that her eyebrows were high up. “Seriously? You know silicon is bad for your hair, right?”

He floundered. “It was a gift.”

“Whatever. Throw it away. It’s bad for your hair.” She placed it on top of his otherwise empty counter, tossing her braid over her shoulder, diving back into the cabinet to mess around. “I can give you tips on beautiful long tresses, if you’d like.”

Adrien surprised himself with a laugh. “Are you this chaotic outside of the suit, too?”

He didn’t miss the way she paused, didn’t miss the way her tail slowed its swishing as she moved things around in there. “To be honest, no. You honestly wouldn’t even know it was me. Something about wearing the miraculous just makes me want to do everything I can’t do when I don’t have the mask on.”

He envied that about her. He envied the way that Lady Noire was always able to pass off as carefree whenever they were together. She laughed and hollered during tough battles against akumas. Whenever he had to be serious and face his responsibilities, she was able to roam throughout the city, using her miraculous as a way to be free from obligations. She was smart, and her plans to defeat the akuma were always brilliantly formed, but there was always an edge of playfulness to them that Adrien as Mister Bug would never be able to compete with. He envied her so much.

It was much easier talking to Noire when she didn’t have blinding stars in her eyes in adoration for Mister Bug. He knew she meant well, and genuinely cared about her partner, but it was hard to talk to her without her bringing up how amazing he was, or asking him nearly every time they met if he had any plans and wanted to hang out. Sometimes Noire acted like his fan, not his partner.

It was hard hearing that outside of the miraculous, Noire wasn’t the same. He hadn’t given it much thought, since he had always imagined her being the way that she always had showed him when he was Mister Bug. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering how much of her personality was actually a facade, or just a teenager trying to make a friend but failing. 

“It’s not that big of a deal.” She shrugged, more to herself, her tail back to swishing at full force. “I’m always doing something or another that’s full of responsibility. I like being able to get away from it all. Every chance I get when I don’t have to save the world, big or small, I’m running on rooftops or talking to you.”

“You don’t usually talk much about your home life.” His brows furrowed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Thanks! But not today. It’s full of things to do that--  _ believe me-- _ I don’t want to deal with when I’m in the suit. I came here to forget about it. Anyway!” She clapped her hands together, getting his attention. “You going to invite me into your room, or what? I’ve learned too much about your bodywash than I would ever want to know.”

“People would pay to know that, you’re aware of that, right? I could probably get interviewed just on my cosmetics alone.”

“Stop acting so posh, it sounds like you’re the golden child of Paris, or something. You’re not as cool as you make yourself seem, sunshine! I know you sleep with Lady Noire pajamas.” She giggled, flexing her fingers in grabby motions. Shiny hexsteel-tipped claws reflected the bathroom light back at him.

Hm. Maybe she had a point. He motioned her to follow him into his room. She skipped behind him, and launched herself to the sofa that flanked the TV, perching herself on the back of his sofa. She folded her legs underneath her quick enough to be a blur. He could see the underside of her feet, the little green paw prints visible. “You’re right. I’m secretly a nerd but I’m too afraid to tell anyone about it. My favorite hero is clearly Lady Noire. Also, I see you eyeing it, but don’t touch the ball of yarn on my desk. I need it for something I’m working on, and I want it one piece.”

Just like he expected, Noire’s eyes widened at the sight of yarn. Her pupils dilated to nearly all black, her diamond shaped pupils turning into large circles. He tsked her when her hands twitched, and she bit her lip. “Aha, sorry. Sometimes the instinct is too strong to curb. You learning how to crochet, or something?”

He groaned into his hands, embarrassed to admit it. “Something like that. I’m trying to learn how to knit for a friend, but I guess I didn’t get my dad’s knack for creating clothes.”

He wanted to make something special for a classmate of his. Marinette frequently complained about the temperature in the school, and long afternoons in the classroom with them working on projects together, he always found himself sympathetic to Marinette’s constant shivering in the class. No matter how many layers she wore, she complained about the cold. He’d wondered how difficult it could’ve been to buy some yarn and knit her a scarf, and with Tikki’s enthusiastic help picking out the different colored yarn, he was able to start the first couple of rows.

But it was hard. So much harder than he had imagined. He thought akumas were hard to deal with, but blessed be, nothing compared to him trying to memorize loops and tucks. His brain wasn’t made for it.

“Oh? A friend, huh?”

He tried not to blush. “Well. You know. More than a friend, I guess. I like her a lot.”

“Some lucky girl!” Noire laughed. “You want some help?”

“I don’t think your dating advice will help me here.”

“Hey, my dating tips are  _ purrfect.  _ But I’m not talking about advice!”

“You know how to knit? Or are you just trying to get into my yarn stash?”

“A little bit of both,” She rolled her eyes. “But mostly the knitting. I can’t do much with the claws, but I can probably teach you better than the tutorials you’ve been watching online. You really have to get someone in person to teach you how to do it, so I’ve found out. I’ve made a couple of knitted stuff before. What do you say?”

“If this is a trick, little kitty, I’m kicking you out.” He passed her the square that he’d been working on, letting her evaluate it. She looked at his rows that had taken him hours to complete. He was a novice, sue him.

She grinned. “As if you’d even be able to catch me.”

“I know the layout of my room better than you do.” He matched her defiant glint with his own. “And I’ve been told my throwing arm is extremely accurate.”

Ha! Nevermind that his accuracy came from years of fighting akumas. His yoyo was extremely precise because of it. He could catch akuma butterflies with his eyes closed, and miles away. Noire wasn’t the only one with special abilities.

“And I’ve been told that I’m very slippery.” She paused, giving her sentence some thought. “Actually, no. No one has called me that. I don’t really have time to talk to anyone except you.”

He couldn’t stop himself from wincing. “That sounds lonely.”

“Tell me about it! I have no social life from all the stuff I have to do. If this mask wasn’t in the way, you’d definitely be able to see all the bags under my eyes.” She laughed good naturedly, picking at a stray string of fuzz on his project. 

He wanted to ask her why she spent so much time in his bedroom if she clearly didn’t have time to socialize at all. Did she truly enjoy his company this much that she would rather bother him on her spare time, than do anything else? He wondered what type of obligations she had that made her sleep less, but he knew that it was private information he would never get to have. Maybe asking Master Fu for advice on how to take care of his super hero partner’s health was in order.

“How about this. Put on the last part of Pride and Prejudice and I’ll fix up your lines for you, and I’ll also teach you how to loop.”

* * *

“You’re a guy, right?”

It always gave him whiplash whenever she climbed through his window without preamble. This time she wasn’t as graceful with it-- claws scrabbling for the frame as she tried to squeeze herself in through the small square. She was small and lithe, but just barely small and lithe enough to fit through the smallest partition of his ceiling-to-floor windows. He was lucky that Tikki was snoozing in her favorite drawer, tucked away from Noire’s grabby hands. He paused from folding up a shirt in the way that Noire had taught him, giving her a pointed look. Her grin took up her entire face, rosy pink lips pulled while to show fanged teeth. “I’m pretty sure I am. Why?”

“Oh, cool!” She sighed a breath of relief. Clearly the question had been too cumbersome for her. “Can I ask you some questions about guys? I would ask my other guy friends, but I was passing by when I saw your window open.”

“Okay, one: my window was not open,”

“Semantics.”

“Secondly: what exactly do you need to know about guys?”

“Ooh, I love lists.”

“ Third: why?”

She made herself at home on his couch, tossing her go-to decorative pillow under her head as she stared at the ceiling. “I’m trying to make friends with a boy in my class and he just can’t talk to me, for some reason. I’m starting to think he doesn’t like me.”

It wasn’t often that she came by with an actual dilemma from her civilian life. In fact, he wasn’t sure she ever had. He wracked his empty brain for an answer. “Did you do anything to make him not like you?”

“Not that I know of.” He couldn’t see her from the other side of the couch as he put away his clothes. He looked at a jacket, and wondered if it was worth the wrinkles if he shoved it into a drawer instead of hanging it up. He quickly decided against it. Noire would have his head.

“Well, what happens when you talk to him?”

She sighed. “He clams up. Oh, it’s horrible. I can barely talk to him without him stammering up a storm. Sometimes it gets to the point where I feel like I’m talking to a telegraph, and I’m a poor radio man trying to decode the morse code coming through.”

“Don’t be mean.” Either way, he couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “I’m sure the guy just gets intimidated by you. Sometimes you talk like you’ll die if you stop talking.”

“Like a shark.” She popped her head up from the couch, the tips of her ears twitching in alert.

“Sharks don’t talk.” He hoped to god he was right.

“But they do die if they stop moving.” She tsked at him when he tried putting a folded shirt into the wrong drawer. “Hey! Put that in the right place. I can see it from a mile away, that’s a date shirt. That goes into the ‘date shirt’ drawer.”

He groaned. “How do you even know the difference between a black school shirt and a regular black shirt?”

She giggled. “I have special eyes. They don’t twinkle lovingly for no reason, sunshine.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, kitty. It’s just a shirt.” He followed through with her request anyway, wincing under her mock frown.

She humphed, her tail swishing wildly behind her, back onto her wild train of thought. “You think I’m like a predator, or something? I don’t like that word. Too gross. You think I intimidate him as if I was a shark? That’s a better analogy.”

“Do you try to eat him like a shark?”

“No way! I’m real nice, I swear it, Prince Charming. All I do is ask about his day. It’s not my fault he’s terrified of me.” She sighed, and bared her teeth to him, pretending to bite. She huffed. “I can’t even smell blood like a shark. That would be cool though.”

“You’d be too overpowered.”

“You’re right. Mister Bug would need the upgrade, not me.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t even talk a lot outside of the suit. But I am full of energy when I have the suit on. You try putting on a super suit that’s made to fire at all cylinders--”

“It’s ‘fire  _ on _ all cylinders’, not ‘at’--”

“--And try not to have a heart attack from the energy building up in you that makes you want to build the Great Pyramid of Giza all by yourself. You think the Louvre’s glass pyramids are impressive? Watch me build it on sheer super hero energy. It would be beautiful, and taller than the Eiffel Tower. No. Empire State Building in New York. No. _Marinara trench.”_

He knew exactly what she meant. The suit always made him feel anxious, and almost claustrophobic. Not that he could tell her, though. “It’s ‘Marina’.” 

“Actually, it’s ‘Mariana’. Silly. But it’s such a pretty name, don’t you think?” 

He steered the conversation back, noticing her eyes swirling with jumbled thoughts. It was like as if he could read her mind, and he knew that she was thinking about just how deep the Mariana trench was, and if she’d be able to swim all the way to the bottom. “Sharks.”

“Sharks.” She nodded sagely, snapping out of her thoughts. “Right. I’m not terrifying outside the suit. I don’t think I’ve ever said anything bad to this guy. He’s really sweet, and my friends say that he has a great sense of humor, but how am I supposed to know? I can barely talk to him! Sometimes we only last two sentences before he’s excusing himself. What do I do, sunshine?”

He tried not to wince. This sounded similar to what he dealt with at school. Whenever he got the courage to talk to Marinette, he’d stutter and dissolve into a heap of a mess. Nevermind that he spent hours with her after school working on class representative projects that were both a blessing and a curse-- blessing, because he could stay longer at school with Marinette-- curse, because he was horrible at keeping conversations with her without turning into a garbled mess-- he still couldn’t convince himself that he wasn’t in mortal danger from just  _ talking _ to her. His body refused to believe him, and the anxiety talking to her was enough to make him sweat bullets.

Maybe his crush on Marinette was too much. Nino was his best wingman, and tried valiantly to help him out to get Adrien to have good conversations with Marinette, but he was useless when it finally came down to the talking part. Marinette was like his own shark problem. He hated that the analogy worked for his problem so well.

“Why don’t you try asking him questions about himself?”

“Let me try practicing as if you were him.” She set her braid to hang from the back of the couch, eyeing him with her diamond slitted eyes. “Hi, Adrien. Did you have a good time at school today? What was your favorite part?”

He closed his drawer set softly, trying not to wake the sleeping Tikki within. “Hi, Lady Noire. My day was good. I got to eat at a special place with my friends for lunch today. I ate a really nice sandwich for lunch, and I think that was my favorite part of the day. It was either that, or the short meet up I had with the class president about the class meeting we are going to have tomorrow.”

“I can’t believe just how easy that was.” She frowned, dropping back onto the couch. Her braid pulled up with her, but a third of it still hung across the back of the couch from how long it was. He watched the green ribbon dangle. “Look at that! A full conversation. A two-way street. A question and an answer. Is it that easy to talk to boys? Is it the super suit? Is it the fact that I look ridiculous in this suit and you feel sympathetic? I wish I could have that type of conversation without sending him stammering out of the room.”

He snorted. “Maybe you’re coming on too strongly? Give the guy some breathing room.”

“I’m not sure. Maybe I’m just truly a shark and this poor guy is a shrimp, and all this time I’ve just wanted to be friends with him but all he can see is big shiny teeth.” She threw her hands up, hexsteel claws shiny in the mid afternoon rays that filtered into his room. She tried catching a sun ray in her fist. “Do sharks eat shrimp?”

“I don’t know enough about sharks.”

“Whales eat shrimp.”

“I don’t know about that, either. But penguins do.”

“Are you sure? I thought that was krill.”

“Are they not the same thing? Wait, don’t whales eat krill too?”

“Stop asking me hard questions.” She groaned. “Once the super suit is on, it is ‘lights out’ in the brain cavity. I’m only here to help Mister Bug fight akumas, and pester you until you need to do homework or whatever-- and Mister Bug is nowhere to be found.”

It was almost laughable. If she knew who she was actually talking to, she would probably have a heart attack.

He sat on the only square available left on the couch, pushing her feet off of his area. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest when her feet fell on him, but he  _ oofed! _ comedically nonetheless. “Maybe he has the right idea. He’s probably doing homework.”

“Smart man.” She shrugged, but Adrien could see the blush that formed on her cheeks at the mention of Mister Bug in a conversation. “But I’m smarter. I already finished all my homework for the semester last night.”

“Did you have a lot?”

“Loads!” She pushed at his thigh with her foot. “It took me nearly a whole week to finish weeks in advance. My brain is fried! There’s nothing left in there except thoughts about boys and sharks now! Didn’t you notice I wasn’t in your room at all this week?”

“I don’t think you know just how much you occupy my life, little kitty.” He deadpanned. “Of course I notice when you’re not here.”

He couldn’t help but smile with her as she laughed wholeheartedly. “Your world sure does get boring when I’m not around, I bet.”

She had no idea how it felt to be constantly looking at his windows, wondering if every blur of a bird flying by was actually her. He’d begun to feel lonely without her showing up and pestering him. As much as he wanted to hate the feeling, he actually looked forward to her popping in and sending his entire life into a whirlpool for the evening.

“It’s boring enough to let me catch up on homework.” He shrugged, poking at the neon green paw print on the ball of her foot. She pulled away, ticklish. He filed that information for a later day.

She stretched her arms up to the ceiling, her claws casting reflective hexagonal patterns onto the coffee table. “I’m so glad you let me into your room every time I need it.”

He snorted. “And everytime you don’t need it, too.”

She gasped. “You don’t know that. What if everytime I come here it's because I need to be here?”

“You don’t need to enter my room to organize my underwear drawer. I know you were just interested in seeing if I wear the Agreste brand for everything.”

“Hey, you know what they say about curiosity and cats.” She shrugged into the decorative pillow.

“You’re proving my point.”

“No I’m not.” She crossed her arms, scrunching her face together into a pout. “I just like to have things organized. Forgive me for trying to pass my wisdom onto you.”

“It’s working,” he chuckled, happy that her eyes twinkled. “I get uncharacteristically nervous if I put something in the wrong spot.”

“That’s right, everything has a place! I’m so glad you’re learning it, it warms my heart. One step closer to being a well-adjusted adult. Oh wait, is that the latest console?” She shot up from the couch, her braid whipping behind her. “It is! No way! I bet you I can win against you in Mecha Strike. You have it, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. Two out of Three. If I win, you get kicked out.” He couldn’t stop smiling. As if he would ever do that.

Her grin went wide at the prospect of a challenge. “Alright, Prince Charming. If I win, you help me with my boy problem.”

“Deal.”

* * *

_ “--Adrien? _ Adrien?” She squeaked, suddenly, and by a smidge she was able to escape his panicked grabbing. He was incapacitated by his sheets, tangling his legs and never letting him go. She nearly vaulted to the ceiling in shock.

“Oh god. What in the world? It’s four in the morning, maybe.” He croaked, struggling to slip up his sleep mask to look for her in the dark. He wasn’t sure what window she’d come through, the Parisian night was almost too dark to see anything. His eyes shifted to try to see better in the dark, looking in her general direction before rubbing at his face with his only freed hand. “Noire?”

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” He could barely make out her form bouncing on the balls of her feet two meters away from him, lifting her hands high up to her face to not accidentally hurt him with her claws.

“What’s--” He forced himself to stop yawning. Maybe something had happened. “What’s wrong?”

“I know I shouldn’t have woken you up, you looked so peaceful,” She squirmed, and he could scarcely see her tail whipping behind her. “But I need to use your bathroom.”

“What?”

“Your bathroom,” She enunciated, as if he was thick in the skull.

He groaned. Stuffed his face back to the pillow. And here he thought there was an akuma. “Kitty… Why did you wake me up for that?”

“Well, you were asleep-- I didn’t want to just--  _ use _ something of yours without telling you-- I wouldn’t feel good.” She bit down on the edge of her hexsteel claws. “And I don’t have a zipper on the suit, which is great news because I don’t want to ruin anyone’s day by getting the zipper stuck open in the middle of a fight, and the Ladyblog would have a hoot and holler about it-- but that also means that I…”

His eyes finally focused enough to be able to see her fully. She bit her bottom lip, careful of her slight fangs. Worried diamond green eyes flicked to him, then back to his bathroom door. Like a computer restarting in his brain, he finally got the gist of what she was implying, and his eyes went wide without him making them to. She was going to… “Oh.”

“Yeah. I gotta detransform.” She bit her lip harder, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry! It’ll be quick, and you won’t see me, but I wanted to wake you up and tell you because I didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position and--”

He waved at her, trying to calm her down before she lost all her motor control and kept talking. “Hey, it’s okay. Go use the bathroom. We can talk when you’re done.”

“Thanks, sunshine!” Even in near pitch black, her smile was all consuming. “I’ll wash my hands, I  _ paw-mise.” _

Adrien tried not to slap his own face. He sat up in his bed, and untangled his legs from his blanket that had twisted around his ankles and hips, settling his pillow behind him. God. What time was it? Had Tikki gotten to hide in time before Noire’s superior eyesight caught her? Noire hadn’t mentioned anything, so he hoped that Tikki had been quick enough. He reached for his watch on the bottom of his platform bed, and he squinted at the light that it emitted when he tapped on the face.

It was nearly five in the morning. He groaned to himself. He’d been asleep for two hours. Studying for finals sucked. But even then, as grumpy as he felt from being woken up, he didn’t feel angry or upset at Noire. More or less confused as to why she was in a suit if there were no akumas lurking nearby, but definitely not upset.

“Uhm. Slight hitch.”

He started, cringing as the back of his head hit the wall. “What the--  _ ow-- _ you’re still here?”

“Sorry! Sorry. I just wanted to say thank you. And ask you another favor.”

“Sure. Go on.” He rubbed at the soreness of his skull.

“Can I get some cheese?”

Did she say cheese? “What?”

“Ahm. I need to detransform, and, uhm.” He watched her dig her toes into the rug underneath his bed. She took a deep breath, and Adrien prepared himself for the avalanche of words. “The super suit--  _ my super suit-- _ is powered by a spirit named kwami and every time I transform using my miraculous, it uses a bunch of my kwami’s-- his name is Plagg-- energy, and whenever I detransform I need to feed him or else he gets super lazy and doesn’t want to retransform me. Which is bad, because I want to go home.”

Adrien blinked heavily into the darkness, hoping she could see the tiredness blinking from his eyes.

“Okay.” He hoped he was selling the appearance of not understanding what she said, but he was only a model, not an actor. So Noire’s kwami was named Plagg? And needed cheese? He could do that. He hoped none of the cooks were awake at this time, watching him stumble into the kitchen with barely a shirt on looking for cheese. It wasn’t the first time he’d gone into the kitchen this week looking for something to snack on while he studied, but definitely not for this food. “Any type?”

“Can he come with you, actually?” She shifted on her feet. “He’s picky about his food sometimes.”

He was going to meet Noire’s kwami. This way too intimate for him, the guy who just a couple of months ago had swore off to knowing Noire as anything other than his partner in taking down akumas. Now look at him.Was he even wearing pants? Did boxers count as pants? He hoped Plagg was as amiable as Tikki was, and would be able to keep his secret for him. Tikki had told him before that kwamis couldn’t talk about the other miraculous holder by name, so there was that, but…

“Yeah, no worries.” He nodded, showing more courage than what he felt. He was completely lying: It was  _ all  _ the worries. Starting with the boxers situation.

“Awesome! He’s really sweet, I’m sure he’ll love you, I’m heading to the bathroom now.” She all but ran towards it, slamming the bathroom door and missing the tip end of her tail and braid by centimeters. He tried to curb himself from hitting his head on the wall on purpose, grinning like a fool despite himself. 

He blinked at the light that seeped through the cracks of his bathroom door, and listened to the hesitance in her voice. “C-Claws in!”

The bathroom door glowed green light. Out came barreling a small black dot about the size of his fist, zipping past his ear to look around, and Adrien settled into a sigh. Well. He supposed Plagg was ready for some food.

It was easy enough to convince the cooks to slip in a dessert or two in his lunch bag or dinner, when he asked for it. They knew his diet was inadequate for a near-adult, knew that he got hungry well before whatever mealtime. Plus, Adrien had gotten supremely good at the puppy eyes with the staff, always able to slide by an extra serving of food if he asked for it. No one said a word about it. Feeding Tikki the cookies that the staff made was fairly simple to do. He was thankful that he didn’t have to try to figure out how to feed a kwami cheese constantly.

The black dot landed on his shoulder. Adrien pressed a comforting hand on the crown of the kwami’s head, surprised that the kwami gave a little purr. “It’s nice to meet you, Plagg.”

The kwami yawned into his shoulder, and stayed silent until Adrien closed the door to his room. He padded down the hallway, checking carefully to see that nobody was there. He nearly missed Plagg talking. “Nice to finally meet you. I thought I never was going to be able to.”

Adrien bit the inside of his cheek. “Does she-- does she know? About me?”

“About you being ‘you’?” Plagg yawned again. It must take a lot of power to keep Noire running. Or Plagg was just lazy. “No. She has no idea. I can only tell its you because of your smell.”

Wait. “You can  _ smell  _ me?”

“The cat miraculous gets the night vision and the good hearing from me.” The little kwami’s paws patted his collarbone, as if he was trying to console him. “As well as the good humor.”

He would have laughed if he weren’t so busy freaking out. “But the good sense of smell?”

“Isn’t given to the user.” Plagg laid his fears to rest. “I can smell Tikki all over you, but Noire can’t.”

“So she doesn’t know that Mister Bug and I smell the same.” Adrien sighed. “This is such a mess. It was her idea to keep the identities a secret.”

“Yeah, I figured. Especially since Master Fu’s said before that he switched the miraculouses on accident.” Adrien remembered hearing about that in passing, when they had first gone to his place. The screen had divided him and Noire from seeing each other as they de-transformed, and their kwamis were instructed on staying on their side of the screen so that they wouldn’t know the other’s secrets. Guess that was out of the question now. “It’s a shame. Tikki would’ve  _ loved  _ my holder. I’ve never met someone who liked the color pink so much. How is she? What are you feeding her?”

According to Master Fu, Plagg was supposed to be  _ his _ kwami. He wasn’t sure if he felt some semblance of tragedy on that, knowing that Tikki wasn’t supposed to actually be his to take care of. He loved Tikki. But he couldn’t help but feel that he would love Plagg too, if he was actually his.

“Cookies. Lots of it.” He should probably bring one back to her, now that he thought about it. “She sleeps in my underwear drawer most of the time, since Noire is in my room constantly.”

Adrien flicked on the lights to the kitchen, perusing the fridge for food. Where were the cookies? Maye on the bottom shelf? 

The doors were tall and wide enough to technically be considered a walk-in, but Adrien tried not to go in so that his feet wouldn’t freeze and fall off. Plagg sniffed the air, his small black tail twitching and thumping against Adrien’s back.

Plagg’s neon green eyes went wide. “Is that? Do I smell? It is! Where is it? Where is the camembert?”

“Ah. Maybe in here?” Adrien shrugged his shoulders, gesturing to the open fridge. “I don’t know many cheeses. It could be any of these.”

“Hold on. Let me get it. The stinkier the better.” The black blurr disappeared into the fridge, rattling things around for a long moment. Adrien caught the wine bottle that tumbled off a shelf, exasperated. For such a tiny little critter, he had a lot of force in him. Plagg returned joyfully, two wedges of cheese underneath his arms, oblivious to the wine. Adrien couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the little cat. “This type of cheese is my favorite. It’s been such a long time since I’ve had this. This is like a dream come true!”

“Do you not eat it at Noire’s?”

“She doesn’t have enough money to spend on cheese.” Plagg chewed thoughtfully around one of the wedges, using the back of one of his paws to wipe at the leftovers off his face. He licked his nubby paws. “And when she does, she barely has time to use the money.”

Adrien frowned, leaning over the white countertop to poke at Plagg’s cheeks. “Is she that busy all the time?”

Plagg couldn’t contain his laugh, grabbing the second wedge. “Are you kidding me? She has absolutely no time to herself. I can count on my hands how many times I’ve watched her go to bed and actually sleep for the whole night-- and that’s because I don’t have fingers, and I’ve been with her for four years now. Everytime I go to bed she’s still working on something for school or projects or whatever, and by the time I wake up again she’s already getting ready for school. That’s even after going on our nightly patrols.”

“Nightly?” Hold on. Every night? “But Mister Bug and Lady Noire only patrol--”

“Every three days, I know.” Plagg took another bite. “Believe me, I’ve talked to her about it. She just doesn’t listen. We go out every night. I eat so many cheese puffs it’s almost criminal.”

Adrien frowned. “But… why? Every night?”

Plagg looked as pensive as he could look while still focused on his last remaining bite of cheese. Like he was contemplating something. Adrien pet his whiskers as he thought, giving the little cat kwami a nice head scratch that he was sure to get a good reaction out of him.

“I think you’re going to have to ask her that one, kid.” Plagg patted his full stomach, sighing in relief. Adrien wondered why Plagg didn’t want to answer. “Phew! I’m full.”

Adrien rummaged through the back of his fridge, grabbing the rest of the small cheese wheel. Maybe Noire needed this more than he did. He wrapped it in a paper towel from the rack below the cabinets, giving the cheese wheel the best of a knot he could. “Can you find me some cookies in the fridge?”

“I think I smelled chocolate.” The little kwami hummed, floating into the fridge again. “That’s her favorite kind. Let me go see.”

Adrien slipped the wine bottle back into the fridge, minding the shifting produce. Plagg reappeared triumphantly with a cold cookie twice as large as him. He placed it on top of the cheese stash. “Ready to go back now?”

“Sure thing! Maybe she’ll actually go to sleep after all of this. I know I’d feel a lot better if she did.” Plagg yawned, rubbing at his face with his tiny little paws. He rested into Adrien’s careful palm, curling into the cup shape he created with his hand. 

Adrien took his time padding through the hallways, checking his corners just as a precaution. He clicked his door shut behind him, scanning the black room for Noire’s presence. He let the cookie rest on his desk, certain that Tikki would find it later when Noire finally left and she was able to move around.

“Noire?”

“I’m still hiding in the bathroom.” Her voice sounded muffled on the other side of the doorway. He got close enough to the bathroom door before Plagg zipped from his hand and squeezed through the crack underneath the door. “Oh, hi Plagg!”

“I like him.” Adrien shuffled on his feet, feeling bashful at the compliment. “He has some good cheese.”

“I’m glad to hear.” Noire’s laughter sounded genuine. “Ready to transform?”

“Let’s go.”

“Plagg, claws out!” Neon green light exploded from the door, and it left Adrien squinting at the light. She stumbled through the door, turning off the lights from the bathroom, only leaving a blur of a smile in front of him before they were cast into the pitch black darkness. This time, his eyes adjusted quicker, and he was now able to see the vague shapes of her eyes and lips.

Adrien held his other hand out with the cheese. “This is for you. And Plagg.”

She cupped her hands to receive the paper towel sack. “What is this?”

“More cheese. He can have all of it, if he wants.” Adrien shrugged. “I don’t have much, but he was pretty excited about what I had.”

“Oh-- thank you. That’s really nice of you.” She looked up at him, and Adrien could make out the diamond shaped pupils. “And thank you so much for letting me use your bathroom. Ah. I’m so sorry that I had to barge in on you while you slept. That was… not wise of me to drink that much water.”

“It’s okay.” He was feeling more awake now, anyway. At the more extreme droop of her cat ears, he tried for humor. “It’s better you doing that than having to detransform to use a public bathroom and someone catching you, right?”

“Yeah.” She smiled softly. Her eyes flickered to his desk, to the open notebooks he had spent the entire night studying in. “I’m so sorry I had to wake you up during our testing week. I really didn’t mean to wake you up during a time that’s super important. But I don’t feel comfortable going to your bathroom and entering your room without you knowing.”

“Can we talk about that, before you go?” He winced. “What were you doing up at five in the morning during a school night running around in your suit--  _ during test week, no less-- _ if there was no akuma?”

“I’ve been patrolling.” Noire sighed. “I thought I could make it back home before that liter of water I drank before leaving caught up with me, but I was totally wrong.”

He frowned. “Why are you patrolling out so late?”

“What do you mean?” She cocked her head. “I always patrol the city. Every night. Rain or shine. Five in the morning or not.”

“Why? Isn’t that too much?” He scrambled for something to add. “Does Mister Bug know about this?”

“No, he doesn’t.” She sounded panicked. He imagined her tail was flicking hard behind her. It was too dark to see it. “Please don’t tell him. I mean, he probably wouldn’t believe you that you saw me patrolling out and about in the city so early, because it sounds ridiculous, but either way. Please don’t tell him. I don’t want him to worry.”

“Noire, patrolling by yourself is dangerous. You could get hurt.”

She smirked. “You know I’m a superhero, right? With a black belt in aikido? My miraculous baton doesn’t transform into a bo staff just because.”

He never knew that. There had been speculation online on the Ladyblog, and even he had wondered how she was all that good when she had her staff. If it were up to him, he would use the baton as a sword, but that was because of all of his years of fencing, so there must have been some kind of preference for her. He never knew it was because she had already practiced with it.

“Okay, so you can defend yourself.” He frowned, crossing his arms. “But aren’t you tired? You cat nap in my room all the time. I think you’ve even left an indentation on your side of the couch. You’re trying to catch up on sleep wherever you can. Why don’t you ask Mister Bug to come with you?”

Her shoulders curled forward. “It’s nothing.”

“Hey.” He poked at her cheeks. “It is to me. Tell me what’s wrong. I don’t feel comfortable knowing that you’re patrolling by yourself, superhero strength and abilities or no.”

“I know that Mister Bug sees me as an annoying fan girl, sometimes.” He caught her whispering, more to herself, “And I know that maybe I push the whole thing too hard. I’m usually seen as just a side character to Mister Bug’s super hero development. And if not, I’m always seen as his equal. He doesn’t see me as anything other than a fangirl, but this time he has to work with me in order to save the city. And I’m never my own thing when people talk about me.”

“Hey. That’s not--”

Her smile turned sad. “It is true. I know it because I hear it all the time. Super hearing stinks, Adrien. I wish I meant something to people without it being an add on. ‘Hey, look over there, it’s Mister Bug! Awesome! Oh, and Lady Noire is there too! That’s nice.’ I just wish I wasn’t treated like second in command.”

“I was talking about the Mister Bug thing, but I’ll address that too. I’ve never thought of you as second. And I know that Mister Bug thinks the same.” He hoped she could see he was speaking from the heart. Never in his life had he become so resolute. “Kitty, you don’t have to go out there in the middle of the night to prove to people that you’re important. Everyone knows you are. Everyone knows that Mister Bug protects you and gets hit by the akumas instead of letting you get hit because he knows that you’re smart enough and capable enough to fight akumas on your own if you need to, and that he can’t fight without you.”

“Thank you, Adrien. But I don’t think that’s true.” She sighed. He wondered if she was crying. “Mister Bug never tries to stick around after akumas to ask if I’m okay. He barely even looks at me. Why do you think I keep ending up at your place after the battle is over? He doesn’t see me as a friend, no matter how hard I try. I keep trying to show that I’m just as capable as he is, for him to just  _ look at me,  _ and Plagg gets so upset by it. The more and more I push, the more it just seems like I’m fangirling over him. I just…”

“Noire,” Oh.

“I just want him to notice me. Not romantically, anymore. Just… be my friend. Oh, Adrien. Maybe he’s my own shark. And I’m not even a shrimp, I’m the unappetizing seaweed.”

What had he done? All this time, going back home as fast as he could to try to beat her from coming home to an empty room, he was neglecting her as Mister Bug. He hadn’t realized that she missed talking to him in the suit, obvious crush or not. How could he be so foolish to think she wouldn’t be upset about him leaving before talking to her after the fight, and instead just relying on his civilian identity to do the caring of her?

“You’re--  _ hey-- _ you’re not seaweed.” Her shoulders curled harder when his palms made contact with them.

“Look at me. I’m floating. Fish-- fish get  _ tangled _ in me. Everyone wants to go see the shark but gets upset when there’s just me, the seaweed, in the way. Seaweed isn’t interesting. Seaweed isn’t shiny. Seaweed isn’t a real Hero of Paris.” Oh, she was crying, wasn’t she? He didn’t have to have night vision to see it. She folded in on herself, holding the paper towel wrap in one hand while sobbing into the other.

He crushed her into a hug. Finally, he was able to address the urge to smooth down the top of her head, and he did just that while smooshing his cheek into one of her hexleather ears. He’d held her so many times before, as Mister Bug, trying to help her escape an area when she had sprained an ankle or rolled her foot, but he never paid attention to her size as closely as this. 

She was smaller than he realized. 

Her hair smelled faint of coconut oil. 

“You’re not seaweed. Not to me. Not to Mister Bug, either. I know it. I’ll ask him himself, if I have to. He can’t fight akumas knowing that you’re hurt, I know that in my bones. You’re the most important hero I know. My favorite, too. I’ll go on a campaign for you if I have to. I’ll tell the entire internet that you’re my favorite. I’ll get Mister Bug to agree with me.”

He knew that he could get almost about anything trending on the internet if he talked about it enough. He didn’t like using social media because of it-- people were always watching what he was saying with bated breaths. As much as he could afford to, he tried to stay out of public eyesight, Mister Bug notwithstanding.

“Please don’t ask him.” She clung to his shirt weakly, trying not to tear holes into the fabric. “I don’t think I would be able to deal with it.”

“Alright, I won’t. But please, Noire, please don’t continue patrolling by yourself. Please. I won’t be able to sleep well at night knowing that you’re out there alone.” They swayed slowly in the dark, the balls of Noire’s hexleather feet on top of his sock-clad feet. He hugged her close enough to hear her heartbeat pounding like a wardrumb as she cried.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi! Hope you enjoy!!
> 
> University started this week for me. I hope I can finish the next chapter in time.
> 
> Enjoy!

A tower of sentient boxes was moving closer to him.

Okay, the tower of sentient boxes had a pair of legs attached to them, but he couldn’t really tell if he should help them out, or ask Tikki if it was a new sentimonster. He turned the corner, watching the large, flat white boxes bob in the person’s hands, and decided it would be best if he helped, tucking Tikki close to his chest. He peered over the towers, and nearly bit his own tongue at who it was, his goal of finding a water fountain completely forgotten. “Oh-- Marinette-- hey.”

“Oh!” Her eyes widened, and the boxes shook in her hands. Her balance was precarious, the boxes piled in her hands taller than her actual height. Her small arms struggled to keep the weight steady. “Adrien, hi! Sorry, you scared me!”

He jolted. “What’s-- where? Where are you going with the boxes?”

Her smile was enough to make him short circuit, her eyes bright and blindingly clear. “I’m bringing them for our meeting! They’re cake boxes from my family’s bakery, and they’re the perfect size for the project we need to do about our favorite memory. I want everyone to have examples of what I want their projects to look like, but also I want to give it to whoever needs it.”

Of course Marinette thought enough ahead to bring boxes to their classmates who might not have their box already picked out. He wished he had thought of something like that.

“Wow. That’s really-- uhm-- smart. Can I-- can I help you? With the boxes?” He gestured towards them, hoping that she wouldn’t mention the blush that was no doubt making its way up the side of his neck.

“That would be wonderful.” She confessed, large doe eyes blinking slowly up at him. He bit the inside of his cheeks as he grabbed four of the six, surprised at the actual weight of them in his hands. He hadn’t expected the boxes to have anything in them. And he definitely hadn’t expected for them to be this heavy. She sighed at the lessened weight in her hands. “You’re always there when I need you, you know that?”

“It’s-- it’s not that big of-- of a deal,” He managed to stammer out, shifting the boxes in his hands. How had she managed to hold any more than this? His arms were going to fall off if he held onto them any longer.

She rested the two leftovers on the dip of her waist, freeing up her hand to open the door to the hallway their classroom was in. Her bright laughter was echoed warmly through the empty hall. “I hope everyone’s in the new room already. Did everyone make it in okay?”

“Last time I checked, everyone was inside.” He frowned. “No. Wait. I’m missing somebody. I only counted thirteen. Fifteen, with us.”

She looked back at him, and he tried his best not to trip. “Oh. I wonder who?”

“C-Chloe.” Noire would be laughing at him if she knew that he got this tongue tied in front of a girl. And not just any girl, either, but Marinette. Sweet, sweet Marinette. The girl could barely hurt a fly. She was sweet to everyone, always making sure that everyone was heard and well represented. He was glad that the class had picked her as class president. There was no one else they could’ve given the title to for it to fit.

She always made sure to check up on the affected classmate after they were akumatized, and was always trying to console the person before they got angry enough to be transformed. That in and of itself was incredible.

Honestly, Marinette ended up doing most of the emotional cleanup when it came to the akuma attacks. He felt bad about it, and tried to do his part, but Marinette always managed to come off as more sincere. Maybe it’s because she knew their classmates for longer than he had, so it didn’t look like she was trying to console them before they turned into an akuma, but rather a friend genuinely looking out for another friend. 

Still, his efforts weren’t for nothing. Nino in particular had become his closest friend after the birthday party incident a couple of years prior-- Noire didn’t count in this case, yes they were best friends, but she wasn’t his classmate-- and he considered everyone in the classroom his friend as well. They’d all spent way too long with each other to not be friends.

He had completely bugged out--  _ ha! Oh, if only Noire had been there for that one!-- _ when Marinette had picked him to be her Vice President for the class for the final year of school. She’d been slightly shy about it, claiming that she knew that he was busy with his other after school activities, and that he was gone for weeks at a time to do modeling shoots across Europe, but had decided that it would be the best way for him to be personally involved in what their class had to offer.

Of course he had said yes. Even if it was for the selfish reason to spend more time with her, Adrien had to admit, he was glad he’d said yes. She had been right, Adrien being present in meetings and working on things after school with her to make sure the class was well maintained really did help him feel like he was working better with his classmates. Actually hearing their concerns like a real friend, instead of a passerby who felt wrong being in a group that already knew each other.

He managed to thank her when she opened the classroom door for him, and he deposited the boxes on the teacher’s desk. His arms were burning. Even with the muscle definition he’d acquired during his years of fighting akumas, and fencing, and whatever the odd play fighting with Noire whenever she got in the mood to tussle and bite-- he had to buy her boxing gloves to put over her hands, so that she wouldn’t claw at anything on accident with her nails, and a silicon mouth guard so that her fangs wouldn’t break skin-- the boxes erred slightly to the side of  _ too much weight.  _

Just how much muscle was Marinette hiding underneath that pink cardigan of hers? Or was she truly just struggling to hold onto the boxes? He was glad to have found her before all of them had fallen out of her hands. He wouldn’t want her to suffer.

He sat down on the rolly chair at the teacher’s desk, reopening his notebook he used for taking notes during the class meetings. He was grateful that Marinette never asked him for copies of his notes-- they were full of embarrassing little doodles. He wouldn’t be able to look at her ever in the eye again if she saw the hearts he’d drawn on the margins. 

Marinette settled her two boxes next to his, giving him a soft smile that sent his heart tumbling. “Hey everyone! Good afternoon!”

Their classmates laughed as she spun on her ballet flats. Adrien managed to count fifteen people in total again, not counting the teacher present, or the other student at her side. Each classmate sat at what would be considered their assigned seat during the classroom, but in a more relaxed manner, eating snacks or on their phones. This was one of the few times he could catch his friends relaxing, since his schedule of babysitting stray cats made it near impossible for him to hang out with them.

“Good afternoon, Madame President!” Alix called from the back. Marinette laughed, good humoredly.

A brief chorus of greetings came their way to the front of the classroom, and Adrien busied himself with taking attendance in his notebook while Marinette started talking about the itinerary that they would cover during the meeting. She looked through her backpack, which she had propped up against the leg of the teacher’s desk where he sat, and Adrien bit down the weird urge to pat her head. Strange. She grimaced to herself when she couldn’t find something in her bag. “Ah, Adrien? Do you have a marker on you?”

“A marker? For the board?” Adrien shook his head. Idiot. Of course it was for the board behind them. “I-- no. I’m sorry.”

She hummed to herself, biting her tongue, and scanned the room for someone else to ask. Adrien watched her make eye contact with Nathaniel in the back of the class, who deftly hid behind his sketchbook to not get her attention. He wondered what was the deal between them two.

Her eyes spotted Nino, who was busy attempting to convince Alya about something, hands animated and flying as he spoke. Marinette skipped over to him, having picked her target, and leaned against the desk while her skirt twirled with her movement. Adrien tried not to stare too long. He tried not to blush when Kim caught his eyesight, raising his brows to imply he’d seen his thought process.

It was a miracle that Marinette hadn’t realized by now that he had a crush on her. The entire class knew about it, and he didn’t know whether to bury his head in sand or pretend that the crush didn’t exist at all to begin with. Either option was horrible, and made him want to smack his head into a wall.

It didn’t help that while Nino attempted every single time to get him paired up with Marinette, the entire class did too. They’d recognized that Adrien was smitten with Marinette within the first few days of their meeting, all those years ago, when Marinette had apologized to him for thinking he was pulling a prank on her. He’d lost his footing altogether after that day, and for years now their classmates hadn’t given up hope that maybe one day Adrien would be able to bite the bullet and ask her on a date.

Marinette came back to the board behind her with a blue marker, writing a checklist of what they were going to cover. Adrien eyed her write in perfect cursive on the board, and the way she dotted her ‘i’s with small hearts. “Okay! So today, we’re going to talk about our projects for the end of the year for this meeting. This includes our end-of-the-year field trip, our Memory Project, and our class video project. But before we do, let’s thank Madame Celestine for letting us use her classroom while our room is getting clean from today’s art class.”

Nathaniel sank into his seat with a laugh.

The classroom erupted into a thanks in the teacher’s direction, before turning to Nathaniel in the back seat to crack a joke. A young woman near the entrance door with a short bob nodded her head, accepting the ‘thank you’s, and the student beside her spoke urgently with her, conversing with hushed voices.

Marinette spun on her flats, nodding her head excitedly. “Okay, now, let’s begin!”

* * *

“Any more ideas on what we think our final video project should be about? Any? At  _ all?” _ Marinette glanced around the room, waiting by the board with her marker so that she could write down ideas. The list was steadily growing, with the generic answer  _ ‘something extremely cool’ _ circled multiple times when Alix and Kim had suggested it, and the class had given a well-sounded agreement to the idea.

Max raised his hand.

“Robots are already included in whatever we pick on doing.” Marinette shook her head, humor evident on her face.

Max lowered his hand.

“Something with lots of camera angles?” Alya called from her desk, taking a bite of a chip. She’d pulled Nino into her row with her, with the row that Adrien and Nino would’ve sat at together if this was a regular classroom bare and empty. They were huddled together on the bench, both sharing half of the earbud headphones wired into Nino’s phone, speeding through a plethora of afternoon snacks. Adrien envied their intimacy, wondering if he’d ever have the courage to share food with Marinette.

“I’m looking for something more concrete,” Marinette pursed her lips, but wrote it on the board anyway. “These are all conditional. We don’t have the topic yet!”

Adrien continued to doodle in his notebook. He wasn’t a good artist. Far from it, actually. Stick figures were his go to form of drawing people, but he had fun with it in his own way. Drawing a stick figure with two triangles at the top of their head to represent Noire, he smiled to himself at the thought of her. He hoped that she’d passed all of her tests on test week. And he hoped that she was getting enough sleep.

She hadn’t been showing up as frequently for the past month, and he really hoped it was because she was listening to Plagg about her sleep schedule. Everytime she did show up in his room, he’d always find a way to trick her into snoozing on his couch-- not that it took a lot of coercing. He kept a blanket and a better pillow on the couch now, ready for when she was going to strike.

But she wasn’t the only girl in his life that clearly had disrupted sleep patterns.

Marinette frequently came to class with coffee cups from her parents bakery, sipping something that had enough foam to sometimes spill out the sides. Recently he’d noticed that the coffee consumption had decreased, but he wasn’t  _ completely  _ positive that she was staying off the coffee because he sat in front of her. She’d come in just as the late bell rang, ducking her head apolagetically to their teacher, slipping into her seat on her bench behind him. 

Marinette rushed to school far more often than she should. She lived nearby to the school, he was certain of it. He wondered if she was a heavy sleeper, and slept through all of the alarms on her phone, which was why she was always slipping into class at the last moment. The thought was endearing enough to make him smile into his notebook.

He always felt uncharacteristically self-conscious about himself when he remembered that Marinette was behind him during class. He was glad that he was a good student, and so the teachers never really asked him to speak up in class, because he knew he’d be fumbling for answers and replies to their questions.

He took a better look at her from the corner of his eyes. She looked much brighter today. The mascara on her eyelashes more evenly applied. Maybe after lunch she’d reapplied it, but he wasn’t sure. He tried not to look at Marinette too much, just in case she could secretly read everything on his face the moment he looked at her. He’d be mortified if she could see just how much of a crush he had on her.

Why couldn’t he talk to Marinette without stumbling? She didn’t pose any threat to him. How could she? Not physically, at least. He was the fourth tallest in class, and Marinette was easily the third shortest. Maybe even the fourth shortest, but he wasn’t sure about what Alix’s real height was. Marinette liked to wear her ballet flats to school, and Alix wore sneakers that had platform cushions in them. It was a close tie. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Alix without some kind of tall shoe.

So. Marinette didn’t pose a threat to him physically. But his crush on her was debilitating to the point that he couldn’t get full conversations out, his brain restarting at every single interaction they had. Still. After four years. He hated how weak he was around her.

What about Marinette made him terrified and self-conscious? Why was his crush on her so uncharacteristically debilitating? Noire’s theory was right. Maybe Marinette really was his own shark problem. Maybe he really was the shrimp.

“--Adrien?”

His head snapped up to meet Marinette’s. She smiled at him politely, cocking her head to the side, twirling the marker uncharacteristically fast in between the spaces of her fingers. He looked back to their classmates, and those who were paying attention to the class meeting snickered behind their hands. Looked like they weren’t going to help him out of this one. “Ah-- s-sorry. What did-- did-- you say?”

“Do you have any idea on what we should make our class presentation on?” She gestured to the board. “We don’t really have any topics yet.”

Nothing about her screamed ‘shark’ to him. He’d watched those shark movies before, even once in the company of Noire before they’d dissolved into popcorn throwing into each other’s mouths, movie completely forgotten. 

The movies made them oversized to make the animal more like a threat, with a one track mind to eat and consume everything. And so much teeth. So much  _ teeth.  _ He wondered, dimly, if Noire’s problem was that she showed her teeth too much. 

No, that couldn’t be it. Her teeth were endearing. And surely her pointy canines wasn’t an expression of the miraculous, was it? Adrien didn’t even know the miraculouses could change physical attributes. Noire made the fangs look cute, in her own way. Anyone who found a problem with her smile would have to talk to him. She wasn’t a shark because of her teeth.

“Hey dude. You okay?” Adrien locked eyes with Nino, who was trying to get his attention.

“Yeah-- yeah I’m-- yeah.” He had frozen up immediately. Damn it. “Sorry. Sharks.”

Marinette blinked slowly at him, marker slowing down in her hand. “Sharks?”

God damn it. He channeled his inner improvisation master, and stifled the urge to close his eyes and slap himself with the hard cover of his notebook on the forehead. “Yeah-- why don’t we do something about sharks?”

The class was listening now.

“Like a documentary, or something?” Marinette looked back to their friends, looking for anyone to dispute the idea. No one seemed to want to stop the brainstorm ball from rolling.

He might as well keep going, then. “Yeah, exactly. Like-- like a documentary. There are shark sightings all on the Mediteranean. We could take the train down to Montpellier. Take a boat out?”

It wasn’t wise to leave the city when Hawkmoth still existed, but he was sure he could get some arrangement done with Noire to take care of the city for a couple of days while he worked on the project.

“I don’t think we’d even have to go out there for a real shark.” Marinette tapped the side of her cheek with a slender finger. “We could film in the local pool, and insert shots of the ocean to make it look like they’re the same place. Hey Max, how do you feel about creating a 3D rig model?”

Max smiled. “To make it look like there’s actually a shark in the water?”

“Exactly!”

“Do any of us even have a diving license? Or diving gear?” Ivan called out from the back of the class. The class collectively sighed. It wasn’t likely that anyone had. They lived in a populated city.

“Maybe we could do something in segments.” Sabrina suggested, before Marinette could answer. “Have one part of the video be some classmates getting their license. We could rent out the diving gear, too.”

“Oh, I like that. We’d volunteer Alix, obviously.” Marinette pointed to the smiling girl in the middle of the classroom, who had been in the midst of betting Kim about something or the other. It was always hard to tell if the two were arguing or flirting. “Kim, too, since he’s already an excellent swimmer. Would you two be okay with learning how to dive?”

Alix shot up from her seat. “Are you kidding? I was born ready!”

Marinette nodded. “Especially since there’s no real threat. Got any ideas for the soundtrack, Nino?”

“Sure dude. I could make something.” Nino laughed, already pulling out his headphones from his backpack. “No one here says no to a soundtrack similar to Jaws, right?”

“Just make sure it’s different enough so that our video won’t get taken down for any copyright reasons if we ever post it on the internet.” Alya crumbled her chip bag in her hand.

Adrien couldn’t believe his luck. Not only did he manage to convince Marinette that he was actually thinking about sharks, but he also managed to convince the entire class that it was what he was planning all along. Tikki was having a laugh in his backpack, he was sure of it.

Marinette wrote the topic ‘sharks’ on the board in her cursive writing. Adrien wrote it in his notebook, staring at the word until it didn’t look real. Sharks. Sharks.  _ Sharks. _

He had to tell Noire about this. She was going to have a ball with it; maybe even beg to be in the video. It would be fun to have her in it, actually. He wasn’t sure how she would fit, and even if the class agreed to try to contact her about it, having Noire in the video wouldn’t make much sense. But it would do good for her popularity if they could figure out what to do…

He mulled it over for the rest of the class meeting, just copying what Marinette wrote on the board into his notebook. The meeting was over in the next hour, the weak March sun filtering through the windows. Their classmates left amiably, leaving Adrien to pick up after himself and organize his notes together so that they would be ready to pack into his bag when him and Marinette were done reviewing. 

Marinette took her time erasing from the board, having taken a picture of their progress prior to everyone leaving. Madame Celestine finally made her way to her desk, with the student in tow.

“You’re amazing,” The student spoke to Marinette. “How do you get them to listen to you so easily?”

Marinette smiled at him. “Oh! I wouldn’t say I’m amazing. They only listen to me because I listen to them. They’re my friends, too, so I think that helps.”

The student nodded. “Would you be interested in leading the last meeting of the year with all of our graduating class in it? To talk about the end of the year field trip?”

That would be at the end of the month. The entire graduating class would have to be in one room together to discuss which place they’d like to go on. Adrien had assumed that the answer would be New York, but lately there’d been speculation that some classes were starting to think of Rio de Janeiro...

“Oh, I--” Marinette looked back to Adrien, who tried to give her a convincing smile. She looked back to the student, twirling the marker in her hand nervously. The object blurred between her fingers. “I’m-- I’m not sure about--”

“You’re talented.” The student continued, letting his neat row of bracelets jingle as he moved his arms around to gesture. “You speak like a teacher. It’s like you were born to lead, to direct people. Madame Celeste and I would be willing to advocate for you being the leader. We would really benefit from having a talented speaker like you directing the final meeting. People listen to you. It would help the meeting finish faster if there was someone who could keep us on track.”

Marinette blushed. “Thank you, but seriously, I’m definitely not the person you want if you want someone who can stick to a schedule. You saw how many times Juleka or Rose had to remind me to go back on topic, right?”

The guy laughed. “Either way. You have charisma. You’re made to be on the stage like this. You wanted the field trip to be to New York City, right? This could be your chance to push the idea, instead of going to Rio.”

Marinette turned to Adrien, a soft smile on her face. “Alright, I’ll consider it. But Adrien and I would both have to agree on it, I don’t do anything without making sure he wants to do it too.”

“You should do it, Marinette!” Adrien was so thankful he didn’t stutter. “This would be great!”

She shook her head, laughing. “It’s going to be the both of us presenting, Adrien. I’m not doing this alone. You’re my partner.”

Oh. Adrien choked on his tongue. “I-- well--”

“Think about it.” The student finally turned to Adrien, friendly smile almost challenging in the way his eyes glinted. “Every single class leader will be making their case for what city we should go to. If you two can convince our group as well as you guys can command your classroom, it’s a complete landslide. You two can do this. You especially, Marinette.”

Adrien understood where his enthusiasm was coming from. Marinette made leading look easy. “I think-- I think we should do it.”

“I want to talk about it with Adrien more before we decide on it.” She turned back to the student, and then Madame Celeste. “Expect our answer by the end of the week, okay? Thank you again for letting us use your classroom. If you ever need to use ours, it’s always open! Don’t be afraid to get in touch with us. We’d be happy to help you with anything you need.”

The student nodded, being pushed out of the room by the teacher’s shooing. “Thank you for the offer. We’ll keep it in mind.”

Adrien watched the door click behind them, then back to his notebook. Marinette sighed into her chair, leaning her head on the back of the seat. Her flats made soft patting noises on the wooden floor as she stretched her legs out. He tried for a joke, hoping that his tongue would work along with his brain. “Busy meeting today, huh?”

“My feet hurt from standing for so long.” She laughed softly, looking at him through soft lashes. “Remind me to not wear flats on long meetups. Terrible arch support.”

“You did-- ah-- really well today.” He forced himself to speak.

“And  _ you,” _ She lifted her head, blue eyes piercing into his and rooting him into his rolly chair. “Are absolutely brilliant. How long have you had that shark idea in your head? We’ve been thinking about topics for a whole week!”

He stammered. “W-well, I-- you know. It just-- uh-- came to me.”

It came to him while he thought about how terrified he was of his crush on her. Noire would have  _ absolutely _ lost her mind.

“Amazing.” She breathed, shaking her head slightly. She tried to keep a smile off her face, but failed, her lips quirking. “This is going to be the best film of the year from our school. I can feel it.”

* * *

“Master Fu!” Mister Bug watched Noire launch herself from the fire escape staircase and onto the old man. Master Fu laughed wholeheartedly, patting Noire in the back, looking up at her with a soft smile as she babbled about how much she missed him.

The short and friendly old man had been the one to give him his miraculous in a black box. He frequently puttered around with a cane, and complained about his back-- and no matter how many times Mister Bug suggested to get him therapy for it, the old man laughed comfortably stating he was fine.

Master Fu had been the one to come in through his door one evening for Chinese class, when his old tutor had retired. He’d quickly taken a liking to Adrien, and he was more than reciprocative. Adrien and Master Fu met maybe every other week. He felt pride in knowing that he was learning Mandarin from an adept teacher. And someone that he could confide in.

Four years ago, after Master Fu and Adrien had met for a couple of months, Master Fu had delved into revealing why he’d been given a new Chinese tutor. When Adrien had opened the black box to see his miraculous, there had been some debate between the two on whether or not he should keep it since it was the wrong one. He didn’t have pierced ears. He was supposed to have gotten a ring, instead. But there was no time to think-- the first akuma that Paris had ever seen had appeared. He had transformed without a second thought, sticking his earrings as broches on his shirt, knowing that he’d been chosen to keep Paris safe.

Mister Bug closed the window behind him, making sure to lock it and close the blinds. He didn’t want anyone to try to peer in to see who they were talking to, or what they were doing. He looked forward to doing monthly check-ins with Master Fu, being able to talk to people as Mister Bug without having to feel like he needed to be on his best behavior to the public.

Master Fu’s kwami Wayzz spun in the air around him, greeting him with a short bow. Mister Bug bowed back, the hard plate of his armor making it so that he gave a bit of a clack when he did so.

Master Fu pulled away from the hug to pat Noire on the hand. “Hello, my dear. Been taking care of your kwami, have you?”

Monthly check-ins provided time for them to regroup in their efforts to take on the latest attack patterns from Hawkmoth, as well as check up on their armor or weapons to see if there was any maintenance needed. Mister Bug had gotten special training to reform his armor in a more suitable way: to let him have more tactile feel in his hands so that he could grip the thin string of his yoyo better, and had reformed the shoulder pads of his armor to be less bulky.

Noire’s own suit had gone through a reformation once within the first week they’d met. He remembered the first time he had met her, both of them newly acquainted with the idea of becoming superheros. She had been missing a tail, which was the first thing he had asked about when he realized that she was the cat miraculous. No amount of persuasion that her braid was long enough to act like a tail was enough to convince him, and by the next time he saw her, she had changed the suit to have a tail. Her suit had also been reformed to lose much of the bulky zippers, and in exchange to have green detailing on the torso and chest.

He missed the long gloves she used to have, and the design on the shoulder area that made it seem that her shoulders had more gauzy fabric than hard hexleather. But the neon green mandarin collar was cute too, and her newer gloves were much more silent since there were no more zippers. She had even added a ribbon to the tail end of her braid. He loved that ribbon.

But now with the more stylized suit, Noire was silent as the dead when she tracked akumas at night. He wasn’t as quiet as she was when fighting, his armor too hard plated to be considered sneaky. But he was still incredibly light on his feet. He’d made it so that he could take more hits than on average, letting Noire take the abilities of speed and sneaky. He took the ability to take more damage and be stronger.

“Feeding him lots, just like you told me to!” Noire nodded.

“And you, young bug?” Master Fu gestured to the two of them to sit on the pillows on the other side of the low table, where Wayzz nudged two ceramic teacups in their direction. Noire plopped onto her pillow, her tail curling up happily behind her. She sat on her calves, hands on her lap, beaming brightly to Wayzz.

“I’ve been feeding her a lot, too.” He sat to Noire’s right, accepting the teacup. His hexleather palms warmed from the tea. “She’s happy. And misses you.”

Master Fu hummed. “Maybe it would be best if you two depowered your suits. Let your kwamis breathe.”

Mister Bug tried not to tense at the idea, sipping into his cup. It was always awkward to bring the screen divider over to the table, one specially made to cut their side of the table in half. He always worried that the divider would fall, or break, when he was detransformed. Only for Noire to turn around and see Adrien. She would get upset with him. Very upset. And the last thing he wanted to do was upset her.

He knew that Noire hated the screen divider too, and tried her best not to depower when in Master Fu’s room. She’d told him once that she hated not being able to talk, knowing that any little tidbit they knew about each other’s civilian identity could lead to a disaster.

“Got any cheese with you?” Noire leaned her elbows on the table, ignoring her teacup, diamond green eyes dazzling. She didn’t like the tea Master Fu had, claiming it tasted too much like peach, but never got around to telling him. “You know Plagg won’t let me retransform unless he has food to eat.”

“I’m sure I can think of something.” Master Fu chuckled. He beckoned for her to drink her tea. Noire and Mister Bug looked at each other, a little too stressed for comfort, Mister Bug placing his cup back on the table. Master Fu seemed to notice, peering at the both of them with a tired smile. “Something wrong?”

Master Fu was the only one to know their true identities. The mixup between their miraculous behind them, Master Fu had turned it into a bit of a recurring joke between the three of them. Always giving Mister Bug cat themed items for the holidays, or the newest Noire merch available. Noire was always given something to do with Mister Bug’s merch, and she thanked Master Fu every time.

Mister Bug shifted in his seat. This would be almost the eighth time in a row where the two of them lingered before agreeing with Master Fu. This was a repeating problem in their monthly meetings, and it seemed like there was never going to be a solution to it.

Noire was the one to break the silence. “There is nothing wrong, Master.”

Master Fu chuckled. “You two are lying. Speak up what’s troubling you, little one.”

She bit her lip. “There’s nothing, Master Fu.”

“Why do you lie, dearest? I can see you are holding something back. And you, Mister Bug, are the same. You two are hiding something from each other, and I don’t mean your identities. Nor am I talking about the tea. Once again I will state that I am more than willing to keep your identities a secret from each other. But there is something keeping you two from connecting. I suggest you both need to learn to trust one another.” Master Fu looked sad.

“We do.” Mister Bug frowned.

Noire frowned with him. “What do you mean? Of course we trust one another.”

“Not all the way.” Came Master Fu’s easy answer, looking between the two of them with a long sigh. “I sense that you two are not telling each other the truth. Especially one of you. That rift is going to create a large issue for the both of you if you aren’t able to talk it out. Do you not sense that your battles have been taking longer for the both of you to settle?”

Mister Bug and Noire stiffened in place. He wasn’t sure what Master Fu meant. Had they been truly taking so much time to beat akumas in battle that it was noticeable? Mister Bug had speculated that he was coming back from akuma attacks more lethargically, with Tikki taking longer to recharge before feeling good enough to do anything other than eat or sleep. Even Noire, who normally talked for long periods of times when she showed up at his door, would sometimes not make it to the couch to sleep, opting instead to just sleep on the rug.

He’d thought it endearing. He didn’t know it was because she was struggling to keep Plagg’s power on her.

What had caused such a rift between the two of them to make their battles exhausting? 

Was he talking about how he was keeping the secret about knowing and talking to Noire a lot more than she wanted him to know? He didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t realized that there was a strain in his relationship with Noire as Mister Bug, aside from the 'trying to escape her after battles to manage to get home on time and meet her as Adrien' part.

Master Fu sighed when the two of them refused to speak. “The city of Paris depends on you two. It would be nice to have a coercive team to defend them with. We will cut today’s group-up short in favor of you two speaking about these issues with one another privately.”

Noire bit her lip. “But, uncle--”

“I suggest you do it quickly soon.” Master Fu lifted himself up from the table gingerly, continuing to put around on his cane.

* * *

They sat in companionable silence, looking out onto the city skyline from a rooftop that flanked the Sacré-Cœur. They watched the tourists mingle in front of the dome church, watched the city sprawl lethargically on a purple-warm afternoon.

He enjoyed sitting with her on the rooftops to people watch, to keep a sharp eye on congregations and watch people mingle and converse. It was usually peaceful to sit and eat the baked goods Noire brought from home. He always saved one for Tikki, knowing that Noire’s cookies that she brought were always Tikki’s favorites.

The breeze was cold enough to thank the hexleather for being windproof. It tumbled through his messy hair, and whistled lowly in his ear, the sky beckoning damp clouds for the night time. The ribbon on Noire’s hair flapped weakly in the wind, only tethered to the ground by the weight of her braid. The sun eased over the rooftops behind them, warming their backs against the wind, and Mister Bug sighed deeply. While he never got sick of watching the sunset coat everything orange from their rooftop, today it felt as if his mind was detached from everything.

Those who were new to the city, or tourists, frequently pointed to them and whispered, with some teenagers brave enough to try to call them down for a photo. On any normal occasion, Mister Bug would have indulge them. Noire would’ve been down there before even being asked, conversing and helping tourists find their next location to go to, or help them find the subway station. But instead, Noire shifted in her seat, restless, with her tail twitching; struggling to try to find something to talk about with him.

It wasn’t hard to reason why. Mister Bug knew she was thinking about what Master Fu had said. He was, too, and he was mulling about it and the implication that he could be causing a rift between the two. He wasn’t sure what to do. He was not above asking for help. And he was sure that he would need it for his problem. But Master Fu had given him no advice on the subject, making it clear that he wanted Mister Bug to solve the problem in his own way.

The cookie tasted chalky in his mouth when he took a bite, snapping half of the cookie off and crumbling in his mouth. It made everything all that more depressing. He sighed, letting his hands drop into his lap, looking at Noire by the corner of his eye. Her ears sagged against her hair, and she watched the crowd below with a dejected gaze, pulling her leg up so that she could rest her chin on her knee.

“Noire?” 

She flinched, standing up from her roof tile, her diamond green eyes absurdly downturned. “He was talking about me.”

Mister Bug watched her pace on the roof shingles. “What are you talking about, little Lady?”

“Master Fu, he--” Noire breathed in hard, raking a clawed hand through her bangs. “He was talking about me.”

“I don’t--”

“I’ve been keeping a secret from you.” She bit her lip.

He blinked slowly at her, letting her words seep into his head. Noire was keeping a secret from him? Anxiety filled his chest, his body clamming up underneath the hexleather suit. He kept his voice even and calm. “Do you think that’s what he was talking about when he said that one of us is keeping a big secret?”

She frowned. “I’m-- I’m not sure. But it is a secret, and it’s mine, and I should have told you. I need to tell you it, or else I’m going to explode.”

Unease settled in his chest. “Okay. Uhm. What is the secret?”

“Before I say it, I just want you to know that I stopped about two months ago, so it isn’t something I do anymore.” She twisted around to look down at the tourists, who were too far away to hear them. “Plagg’s incredibly happy that I stopped. It used to make him so worried.”

“What are you--”

“I used to patrol every night.” She fisted her hands by her sides. “Every single night, when we wouldn’t go on patrols together, I’d be out here by myself, making sure that there wasn’t any spare akumas roaming around the street.”

Oh.  _ Oh. _ “W-what? Every night?”

Her ears flattened. “It was dangerous, and I was alone, and I stopped lots of thieving, and helped people back into their houses and sometimes it was at horrible times of the early morning if I had been to busy the night before and. Yeah. Every night.”

Mister Bug stayed silent for a long moment. He hadn’t considered that Noire would have to tell him eventually. He had completely forgotten that she had told Adrien, and not  _ him, _ and had been holding it in with guilt for the past two months. “My Lady--”

“It was stupid. It was  _ stupid.” _ She frowned, lost in her own thoughts, barely hearing her petname. “Something could have happened and no one would’ve known about it. Not my parents, not my friends, not even you. Not even my kwami, unless it was too late.”

He managed to get a sentence in when she took a pause to breathe. “Why were you doing that?”

“What?”

“Why were you patrolling on your own? For four years straight?” Mister Bug tried to sound like he only knew about this now. “Why didn’t you ask me to go with you?”

“I… I didn’t want to bother you. You’ve told me before that you can’t leave your house too often, that you have obligations at home.” She crooked her head, her argument sounding weak.

“That’s-- Noire-- I would’ve gone with you. I would’ve made the time for it.” He snapped a chunk of his cookie off. He bit into it, giving him time to think while he chewed. “I would never leave you to do something as dangerous at that alone. You’re my partner, Noire.”

She flinched. “I don’t want to be coddled.”

“I’m not coddling.” He raised his hands up, attempting to show he wasn’t trying to offend her. “This isn’t coddling.”

Her domino mask pinched, the tips of her canines looking flashy in the sunset. “Then what do you mean by ‘never let me do anything as dangerous as that’? Why do you never let me take a hit? Why is it that you do everything you can to protect me like I’m a child?”

He paused, watching conflict swirl in her green eyes. “Wait. Hold on. This is me genuinely afraid and worried for you, Noire. I said ‘alone’. You could’ve gotten hurt-- really,  _ really _ hurt-- going out there by yourself. Maybe going with you wouldn’t have solved any injuries you could’ve taken in the process, but at least having someone with you would’ve been safer than going alone.”

“You would’ve taken the blows for me.” She crossed her arms. “We would’ve gone out, every night, and you would essentially be playing babysitter with me. You would have held my hands before crossing the street-- not even romantically, but like a parent holding their child’s hand.” 

He flinched. “I--”

“I know you don’t like me romantically.” She stamped her foot out of frustration with herself, wiping at her watering eyes. “That’s not-- that’s not what this is about. I’m talking about how you treat me as your sidekick, when I’m not. You always have to make sure that I’m okay, that I’m saved, that I’m not a damsel in distress.”

“Noire--”

“You would’ve done all these things to make me feel safe. Maybe even tying up bad guys before I land a punch on them so that I don’t have to worry about them getting the upper hand. Haven’t you noticed that you never let me take blows when you can afford to protect me? Because I have. Am I a chore to you? Nothing but a liability in a fight? Am I a child, in your eyes, Mister Bug?”

He hated when she called him by his full name, when they were in costume. His shoulders sagged. “--You’re not a child.”

“You treat me like one. You treat me like I don’t know any better.”

He sighed. She was right. He treated her like she wasn’t someone who had countless hours of training in martial arts, who had never faltered when dealing with akumas, but someone who could easily be converted into one if he didn’t take care of her. But Noire was nothing if not strong. Noire was nothing if not his pillar of stability in his own life. He couldn’t keep treating her like she couldn’t take care of herself.

“I treat you like you’re someone that I care about deeply. Because I do. I care about you too much.” He stood, letting their food rest on the paper bag she’d brought them in. He tail swished wildly behind her, defiant. “I’ve seen what not caring about your loved ones does to people personally. I’ve seen the way it breaks people. I can’t lose you, Noire. I know I’m bad at expressing it to you. I take those hits because I don’t want to see what happened to us with Dark Cupid ever again.”

Noire had turned them around just at the last moment to get hit with the arrow herself. Immediately afterwards he had to escape her violent claws that threatened to snap his yoyo in half, and he’d spent virtually the entire day struggling to come up with a plan to get her out of the spell. He hated the feeling of being chased, and Noire was nothing if not silent as the night when she wanted to be. The entire akuma battle had been a cross between him panicking, desperate to get his partner back, and avoiding arrows being shot in his direction. Hawkmoth had the upper hand.

None of his lucky charms seemed to make any sense in his brain. He was too unfocused-- too worried that his partner would show up and continue to scream and bicker at him saying that she hated him. His yoyo was useless in his hands. None of his throwings were landing on target. He was disoriented without Noire at his side.

He had to kiss her. He had to tie her up with the yoyo, to make sure that she wouldn’t cataclysm his face completely off. He gave away his first kiss trying to bring back Noire from being hit by an akuma’s power, pouring as much of his adoration and passion into the kiss as he could. He hoped his cheesy idea of True Love’s Kiss was enough to bring her back. Black lipstick looked abhorrent on her.

He knew now that her lips were soft and plush, and that he would rather see her with pink lips over harsh black any day for the rest of his life. And he would rather have his partner by his side always. He wouldn’t be able to risk that.

Ever since then, he’d refused to let Noire get hit by anything. No more arrows, or bombs, or pigeons that crapped on command. Without taking into account what she thought about it. Without asking her if she was okay with it. He’d royally screwed this over.

“I can’t do Dark Cupid again. But you’re right. I should’ve been more vocal about my intentions. I should’ve told you what was bothering me, instead of trying to take care of it myself.” He reiterated, feeling a odds with himself as to where he could put his hands. He fisted them at his side for lack of a place to put it.

Noire grimaced, but seemed to lose a bit of an edge. “Does that mean that you have to coddle me, Bugaboy?”

That was a good sign. He sighed slowly, watching the wind attempt to carry the heavy weight of Noire’s braid. She stood defiant against him, shoulders squared and head raised to look at him, green eyes piercing. He looked down to her bo staff, compacted against the soft string on her hip.

“You’re right-- I shouldn’t coddle you, either. You’re more than capable of defending yourself. I’m sorry, little Lady.” Tiredness and understanding etched onto her face, visible from under the mask. He was sure that he looked the same. “I’ve been a bad friend to you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have coddled you. I didn’t realize that me trying to protect you was coming off that way. I didn’t mean to make it seem like nothing you did was good enough.”

She glanced his way, a soft smile making its way on the corners of her lips. She blushed heavy. “We’re partners. And I know you want to save me from getting hurt. And I know that I’ve been really childish, with my crushes on you. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable. But we’re  _ both _ instructed to keep the city safe. I want to do that too, without having a bodyguard trying to protect me from harm. I can protect myself too.”

“You’re right. You’re absolutely right. We’re partners.” He tried for a smile. “Can you forgive me?”

Her smile was weak, but much brighter than it had been the entire day, and she slammed into him for a hug. He  _ oofed!  _ softly at the contact, bracing his feet haphazardly on the slanted roof shingles. He was sure that if it wasn’t for the suit, his ribs would’ve cracked from the way she squeezed the breath out of him. “Sorry-- I know you don’t really do hugs--”

“It’s okay--” He laughed, his hands bracing on her shoulders tight, his black gloves coming up to rub at the back of her head. “I’ll gladly take hugs.”

“I’ll forgive you, but only if you forgive me for doing something stupid and dangerous for the past four years. I’m sorry, too.”

“Deal. I forgive you. Just call me if you want to do that again, I’ll gladly go out with you.” He tried shrugging, but Noire’s hexleather ears dug into his neck too painfully to move them. He rested his hand on the back of her head instead, watching her tail drag and flick behind her.

* * *

To say that she scared the living hell out of him when she finally lifted her head would’ve been an understatement. He stamped down the urge to scream, and quickly hid the tablet stylus under the desk to not accidentally send it flying to her face. 

She stared at him, large doe eyes blinking slowly, and then down to their surroundings. Down to her hands, to her tablet still flickering to a chart she was compiling when she had inevitably succumbed to her tiredness. She gasped, pulling a pink sticky note off her cheek. “Oh. Oh my god. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, no big deal.” Adrien tried shrugging, but it came off awkward, his legs jittery. God, he hated jumpscares. He tried a smile instead, trying to sear the memory of the way she looked into the back of his eyelids. She pulled out her hair tie from her pony tail, letting her hair fall down across her shoulders. She retied her ponytail back nervously, blushing hard at her predicament.

“H-how long have I been--” Marinette squeaked when she checked the time on her tablet, nearly dropping it in surprise. “Two  _ hours?” _

“You looked peaceful sleeping.” He tacked on lamely as she wiped at her face.

“I am so sorry for taking a nap like that.” She cringed to herself. “I don’t-- oh my god. I’m so embarrassed.”

“It’s-- n-nothing to be embarrassed about. Have you... not been sleeping?”

“I guess not enough.” She groaned into her hands. “I’ve been sleeping a lot more thanks to yo-- er--  _ yoga-- _ nightly yoga. Yeah.”

He watched her bite her tongue.

He blinked slowly. “Oh. Uh. Wow. You do yoga?”

“Yep. Totally.” She bit her tongue harder, waving the thought away with manicured nails. “My back just, uh, hurts all the time.”

He perked up. Master Fu sidelined as a masseuse, and it was likely that he wasn’t one at all, but he was the only person he knew to refer to. “Oh. Hey, I know someone whose really good for massaging and acupuncture, i-if you want to give it a try.” 

“Oh no, it’s okay! I know someone for that too. I go to him about every month.” Her lips quirked on the sides. “B-but anyway, even with the-- uh, yoga-- I haven’t been able to catch a break for the whole month and a half. Everyone is trying to marry this month, it feels like.”

He cocked his head, confused. “Marry?”

She nodded, exasperated. “The bakery is swamped with cake orders. I’m rolling out fondant to the point my arms refuse to move the next day. I made an eight tiered cake yesterday--  _ count them! Eight!-- _ and I can’t even imagine knowing that many people. Could you imagine? Eight tiers on a cake? That’s two hundred and sixty people to feed. My dad told me that number today. Do you know that many people?”

“N-not at the top of my head.” Maybe not as Adrien, but Mister Bug probably did.

She groaned again. “I’ve been baking for weeks. Every single day before coming to school, I’m helping my dad prepare the batter. Waking up way too early to make all types. Vanilla, chocolate, even coffee flavored tiers. I honestly thought everyone could tell that I smell like whipping cream. Or lemons.”

He frowned. “We could’ve postponed the meetings so that you could rest. I didn’t know you were doing so much at the bakery. W-why didn’t you say anything?”

She shook her head. “No, no. I can’t do that to you. This is important-- our class really wants to get the field trip in order. We barely have enough time as it is. This has never happened to me before, I didn’t imagine I was going to fall asleep!”

“Seriously, it’s okay--”

She couldn’t hear him, placing her face back into her hands. “Goodness. How embarrassing. Was I answering a question before falling asleep? I don’t even remember. Have you been doing everything yourself the past two hours? Oh my god. I am so unbelievably sorry.”

“It’s not that big of a deal.” It had been a  _ bit _ of a deal. He’d freaked out for the first five minutes or so, wondering if Marinette had actually died, or if she had passed out. Texting Nino had been no help, the man had just laughed at his predicament. She’d buried her face into her folded sleeves, tucking herself into the comfort of her cardigan. She’d looked too peaceful. Adrien hadn’t known whether to wake her up or just let her be.

He thought of Noire, who managed to fall asleep on the regular in his presence. He did what he would’ve done if it had been Noire in front of him, instead of Marinette, which was to let her sleep and cover her back with his jacket. At the time, it had been okay. But seeing Marinette hold up his jacket sleeve with confusion written on her face, he couldn’t help but pinch himself at the elbow.

“Where were we?” She bit her lip, pulling his jacket closer on her thin shoulders.

“Actually I-- uh-- It’s alright. I finished all the work. Reload the graph.” He gestured to her tablet.

She frowned at herself, looking lost, watching the graph reload and the tables all filled out in front of her. Her eyes looked glassy. “Oh, god. You did everything. The round trip, the flight seating arrangements. The hotel. It’s all… there.”

“It’s okay, Marinette. Really. It wasn’t that bad for me to do on my own.” The logistics of their field trip had been easy enough. All that was left to do was to print out the paperwork, and pass it off to the principal to see it. 

The quiet time had been good for him, all things considered. Marinette wasn’t as terrifying as his crush made her seem, but that was probably because she wasn’t conscious to look at him with her wide eyes. Her eyes were captivating. But it made him forget words all the time. Mister Bug’s greatest downfall would be Marinette’s eyes. He hoped Noire could forgive him for that.

“Oh. Then I guess we’re done for the night.” She frowned to herself, upset that she slept through their planning day. “I’m sorry to ask but, would we be able to meet up this weekend maybe to go through all of the documents together one last time? I know we’re out of time right now, but, I really wanted to help and get the plans together today, and I have absolutely terrible memory. If we don’t talk about the plans in excruciating detail it just poofs from my head.”

Meet up? Out of school? Alone? He tampered down a wheeze that attempted to escape the back of his throat, clearing his throat with a firm solid hit of his palm to his chest. He tried not to drop his own tablet in the process, face heating. “Oh. Yeah, that would be. Great, actually.”

“Are you available for tomorrow?” She smiled politely, cocking her head in her famous Marinette way. “I know you’re busy all the time, but I hope you have some free time.”

“Tomorrow’s clear.” It wasn’t, but he’d do anything to see Marinette again. Chinese classes could wait for another day. He’d be certain that Master Fu wouldn’t mind. “Do you want to come to my house? I have enough space to work on the documents if we spread them out.”

And also enough space to race Noire across his room to see if she really was faster in her super suit (she was, by a long shot), and enough space to teach him how to cartwheel without smacking down book cases, and enough for her to rock climb and scale his walls, and enough space to play an  _ extremely  _ entertaining session of laser pointer with Noire scrabbling behind a dotted light-- all very important things the Hero of Paris needed to help him with-- but hey, who cared?

“Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to come over to my place?” She laughed to herself, embarrassed. “I mean, it’s probably not as big as your place. But I think it’s only fair, since you did all the work today. Change of scenery, you know?”

He didn’t. But anything for Marinette. “Yeah. Totally. We can do that.”

“Awesome!” She smiled wide, the second brightest smile he recognized. “I guess all that’s left to do is put the table back to its spot, and then we’re done for the day.” 

She looked to the table they’d pulled out so that they could sit better, gesturing to the spot in the classroom that it normally stayed at. Adrien scrambled to get out of his chair, slipping his long legs out from the table underneath him. She followed suit, organizing their folders to not fall off the table while they moved it back into place.

He moved the table easily for the both of them in one go, letting Marinette watch a bit slack jawed, still holding folders in her hands. “Oh. Wow. I never knew you were that strong-- I was just about to help you.”

He blushed. “Don’t be silly. The table isn’t that heavy.”

She bit her lip, sizing him up. “Well, no, but you usually need two people to pull them out of their spot. I mean, I do. Just how much muscle do you have, Adrien?”

Well, he couldn’t just say that he had muscles from all the battles he had to fight nearly every other day in Paris, trying to keep everyone in the city safe, could he? And he certainly couldn’t admit that Noire came by his room on the daily, and that he’s learned a lot more professional martial arts from her in mere hours of tussling with her than what he ever would have learned from videos online.

“Well-- uh. I’ve been-- you know.” Think fast, Adrien. “I-- uhm-- I want to be as strong as Lady Noire is. So I work out. To. Uh. Get stronger.”

Nailed it. He was a natural at this.

Marinette stiffened in her spot, looking at him curiously, eyes twinkling baby blue. “That’s an interesting answer. Why say Noire and not Mister Bug? He has all those beautiful muscles.”

Adrien bit down the urge to twitch at the thought of Marinette ogling him when he wore the suit.

“She’s-- m-my favorite super hero.” Adrien could feel the blush make its way down his neck. The effort of being an expert at improvising was just too much for his body to handle. “And, well. She looks like she could decapitate people’s head off with that staff of hers.” 

That wasn’t a lie. He’d seen her smack his lucky charm baseballs with enough force to break through brick walls, complete with yelling  _ ‘home run! _ ’ in a chaotic, battle cry voice. He’d also seen her break sentimonster’s legs with a single swing, the entire monster crashing down around her, not even breaking a sweat. He did  _ not  _ want to be in Noire’s way if she needed her staff, and he wasn’t wearing hexleather. He wouldn’t stand a chance. His bones hurt at the sheer thought of being within smacking distance of an angry Noire.

“Oh, yeah?”

He had to finish strong. Noire was counting on him. “She’s honestly a role model. Keep rabid fans ten feet away with a pole, beat someone up with a long stick, cataclysm tearing down the Eiffel Tower, that sort of thing. Role model.”

“Really?” She tilted her head, hands behind her back, humor reading clear in her eyes. “Role model, huh? Why do you wanna learn dangerous moves like that?”

“Well, try telling me that you wouldn’t want to learn how to decapitate someone’s face off with a bat. You can’t, can you? My point exactly. She’s a role model to all of us.”

She laughed. “Well, I guess that’s true. Sounds like you like her a lot!”

“She’s my favorite.” He confessed. He realized that he wasn’t even lying, Noire  _ was _ his favorite. She would be until he died, probably.

“I’m sure she appreciates it.” Marinette’s laughter deepened, her shoulders shaking in pure delight. “Who knew that Adrien Agreste was such a fanboy?”

* * *

Marinette screamed when she saw him.

To be clear, he wasn’t there to try to scare her. He fumbled with his yoyo, and his boots slipped against the slick tiles of her roof, stammering out an apology as to why he’d dropped in on her while she covered her plants from the light mist of rain.

Marinette grimaced, twisting her hands behind her to hold down a small tarp over her succulents as she looked at him in fear. “M-mister Bug, what are you  _ doing _ out here?”

“S-sorry.” He twisted the end of his string around his wrist, trying to keep his weapon secure and not fumbling around like an amateur. He hadn’t been this bad with the yoyo ever since he’d tied him and Noire up on the first day they had met. “I didn’t-- god-- sorry-- I didn’t see you here. My vision isn’t as good as Noire’s at night.”

Her eyes widened at him, scanning the Parisian skyline behind him for any signs of movement. “I-is there an akuma? Do you need help?”

“No, I--” He couldn’t say that he was just trying to go home after spending the rest of the day at Nino’s, could he? “I j-just needed to get home quicker. Sorry for startling you.”

Marinette had changed from her clothes after taking that nap. He could smell the soap on her from where he stood across her roof, fresh and fruity, clinging to his nose in a vice. It would be forever until that scent cleared from his mind and head. She must’ve taken a shower just after coming home.

Marinette stared at him, patting down the front of her maxi dress free from dirt. “I-- oh.”

“Sorry for dropping in on you.” He grimaced, trying not to hit himself in the face for repeating himself. “Marinette, right?”

As if he needed to be reminded of who she was.

Hell, they’d worked together when Evillustrator had threatened to corrupt the entire city if he couldn’t have a date with her. Marinette had been surprisingly cool with going on a date with a supervillain.

“Yeah, I--” She laughed humorlessly, letting fat droplets of water hit her bare shoulders from her damp hair, pulling the strands up into a high bun as she shifted on her feet. “That’s me! Marinette!”

“Is everything okay?” He looked to her left, where her planters sat in neat little rows except for the one ceramic pot that had shattered across the floor.

Marinette shook her head hard. “Yeah! Everything’s fine! I heard one of my plants fall to the floor-- I thought a cat or something had knocked it over while they passed over the roof-- we, uh-- we have cats that do that, here-- and I didn’t imagine to-- to-- well-- see  _ you.” _

Mister Bug tried not to hit his forehead into a wall. “Sorry.”

“Oh my god. Did that come out wrong? It’s fine! I totally don’t mind you showing up on my roof. Ever. Definitely a plus. What a dream you are up close, Mister Bug. Stop talking, Mari.” She squatted next to the broken planter, squeaking in embarrassment to herself, picking the damaged looking plant between her cupped hands. She bit her tongue. “Y-you just startled me, that’s all.”

Mister Bug debated on whether or not he should stay and help, or leave and go home before Noire showed up to an empty room. He still needed to shower, and as much as he trusted Noire not to come launching herself through his window while he was naked, there was the small fear of knowing that she could be ready to pounce at him as a prank once he left his bathroom. His civilian self could only withstand so much internal screaming from jumpscares before whatever was in his hand became a missile. He loved and hated his perfect aim.

Mister Bug sighed to himself as he wrapped the rest of his yoyo around his wrist, and made his way over to her, stepping away from the brick wall he had been leaning up against. She held the plant carefully in a small hammock she created with the long panel of fabric of her maxi dress, cradling the leaves tenderly. He kneeled down next to her, boots firm on the cement tile as his hexleather squeaked in the light misting rain. “Is the plant going to be okay? Do you need me to go out and get you a planter of some kind? I can maybe conjure up a lucky charm for it for the time being.”

Marinette glanced up at him, trying not to let her bangs obscure her vision. Her eyes looked so blue in the twinkling fairy lights that wrapped around her railing, her blush hot and red on her cheeks. “No, it’s okay. Thank you. I can put this snake plant in an old shoebox I have in my room before going out tomorrow to buy another one.”

“I feel bad.”

“It’s okay, Mister Bug, really.” She smiled softly then, as tender as her touch was to the plant. “The planter wasn’t your fault.”

“I scared the hell out of you.”

She shrugged, thin straps of the maxi dress moving with the pull of her muscles. “That’s okay. I honestly was expecting you to show up at my door at some point after the stunt I pulled two days ago, but I didn’t expect it to be at night. Or when it’s raining. Or when you look so-- ah-- nice. Your hair is starting to darken from all the rain. It’s a good look on you.  _ Such _ a good look.”

Mister Bug’s cheeks flushed to match the color of his suit, rubbing at a lock of his hair, before picking up on what she’d said. “Wait. You were expecting me to show up? Me?”

“W-well, you! Or Lady Noire! E-either or!” She waved her hands, trying to dispel any thoughts that could have come up in his head. “Anything about ruining the statue.”

“Are you talking about how you managed to get Lady Wifi’s attention off of me by knocking the pedestal over?” He frowned, blush still settling on his cheeks below the red hexleather. Hold on. “Wait. That was  _ you?” _

Marinette grimaced. “Y-yeah. That was me.”

This wasn’t the first time they’d faced Lady Wifi before. Far from it. He knew what the procedure for her was, which was great for dodging her attacks, but also so repetitive. Noire went wild with repetition, and always tried to spice things up, causing even more destruction that his cure had to fix. He wished his classmates would be less susceptible to getting akumatized. But there was something enjoyable in seeing Noire go crazy with her staff.

He thought he had cleared everyone out of the school when Lady Wifi had first taken over everyone’s phones. And tablets. And computers. Nathaniel had been the first one to scream in horror, about the artwork that he had been working on on his computer hadn’t been saved before the screen had completely bricked in favor of showing Lady Wifi’s face.

He’d watched, attempting to perch on a banister, searching for Noire in the sea of students that had fled from the school in horror from Lady Wifi’s threats. In had come in Lady Wifi herself, swiping across her screen and pausing students in mid-step. Mister Bug had to do an intense amount of parkour before getting trapped behind a metal staircase, his time up. There was no way to call out for a lucky charm with Lady Wifi so close.

And a miracle had happened.

The giant statue of Principal Damocles on the second floor had rolled down the very staircase, breaking and shattering into shards of marble in all directions, crushing every step it took down the staircase. Lady Wifi had jumped out from underneath the staircase as it shook hard enough to crumble, giving Mister Bug just enough time to swing out and put enough space between him and the akuma to make his life a little easier to breathe in.

Noire had quickly come in afterwards, telling him that she’d sent Marinette back outside, and went to work about smashing through any computer or tv screens in the area. And for the first time in his life, he’d done something he’d never done before: he followed along with Noire.

He joined her-- when Lady Wifi briefly disappeared to probably go harass some students cowering in the locker room-- smashing through electronics with a freedom he’d never felt before in his life. He’d never had so much fun before during an akuma attack, and even Noire had been delighted to hear him laugh to the point of losing complete track of thought.

Mister Bug blinked back the memories of Noire cheering him on as he broke the monitors in the computer lab. “How did you-- that statue is heavy-- Marinette, you could’ve gotten hurt from that.”

She didn’t look apologetic at all, shrugging her shoulders. “Yeah, you’re right. That was a totally completely bad idea. But hey, it was a good thing I did it, it looked like you wouldn’t have been able to get out of there in time.”

He frowned. “That’s true. But please, I’d rather if civilians didn’t get in the way of the battles. You could’ve gotten hit by Lady Wifi’s pause button. I heard it was painful to force yourself to get out of. People got stuck in their positions for at least thirty minutes before Noire and I were able to rescue them.”

“I figured.” She shrugged. Something twinkled in her eyes. “But I’m sure that Adrien would have done the same if he’d been up there on the second floor with him. The crazy man.”

Ah. Him constantly helping out Noire during battles before he was able to transform was starting to bite him in the butt as a civilian accomplice, it seemed. He tried not to roll his eyes at himself, wondering how he could’ve been so stupid. He was starting to put actual civilians in danger-- he should've been more careful.

“Sorry. I need to talk to him about that. To be honest, I keep forgetting to do that.” Mister Bug sighed, trying to come up with an excuse. “He’s a hard man to get a hold of.”

Marinette nodded, somehow completely buying it. His improv skills were just through the roof today. “I’ve heard he’s busy most of the time, but don’t give up hope just yet!”

Mister Bug started to collect the pieces of ceramic in his lap, letting Marinette reach over to her small trash bag to let him deposit the pieces he found. With each yellow glazed ceramic he put into the bin, the more and more at fault he felt for her vase. “Are you sure you don’t want me to make an object for you to put it in for the time being?”

“It’s okay, Mister Bug. Really.” She smiled sweetly, her lips parting for a soft laugh. A black lock of hair escaped past her bun, hanging down her neck. He wondered if it was as soft as it looked. “Thank you. I appreciate it. But the plant and I will be okay.”

He nodded, trying to keep his eyes off how the stray hair looked lovely against the white of her collarbones. “You should go inside before you catch a cold.”

“What about you, Mister Bug?” She tilted her head, blue eyes glittering. “Do you want to come inside and dry off? I can bring you something from the bakery my parents own. I promise I’ll take down the posters I have of you off my wall before you come in. Ah, shit. Marinette, you weren’t supposed to say that. Anyway. Any food you want? A drink, maybe? Do you like coffee?”

“As much as I’d love to join a pretty lady for late-night snacking, I can’t tonight. Coffee would just keep me awake late into the night, and I have a busy early morning tomorrow.” A busy morning trying to convince himself not to bail on going to her house. Mister Bug tried not to chew through the side of his cheek, picturing just how much her walls were decorated with his face. “That’s thoughtful of you. But I’m going to have to decline.”

“It was worth a try!” She beamed a smile at him, face heated hard at his compliment. “It’s not every day people see you running around on rooftops alone. Sometimes you’re gone from the skylines for weeks!”

Well. If a certain little cat wasn’t in the way of letting him patrol around like he used to...

“If you see me again, try asking again.” He hoped he wasn’t sounding like he was pleading. “I hope the answer is different the second time you ask.”

“Me too.” She confessed, and Mister Bug tried not to feel stars exploding into his stomach at her agreeing. She held the plant close to her body, the thick leaves waving in the soft breeze. “I’d love to see you again. Get home safe, then!”

He nodded, pulling on the string of his yoyo to get ready to leave her rooftop, waving goodbye before he forgot to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next week as usual!!! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i didn't update last weekend! i've been having a lot of bad arthritis pain recently.  
> i updated the chapter count to make up for it.
> 
> please enjoy!

He tried not to wince as she made it halfway into his window, hexsteel claws scrabbling onto his glass surface, trying to find a place to grip and pull the rest of her body through. He looked at her through his mirror, tilting his jaw to the side so he could shave a clean line through the white foam on his face, completely used to Noire’s surprise visits. 

“Is the bathroom just free reign now?” He kept his voice flat in sarcasm.

“Hey sunshine!” She waved, smile wide on her face, oblivious to how much she was struggling to get herself off the window ledge. “Give me a second, hold on, I’ll be right there. I have a bone to pick with you!”

He snorted. “I’m not changing my windows so that you can get easier.”

“Not about the windows,” she panted, her tail whipping behind her as she concentrated. “But, hey, if I can convince you about that too, that would be great.”

“What if I was showering?” He shaved below his chin.

She laughed, her braid falling over her shoulder to spill down against the ledge. “I would’ve heard the shower head on, because I have good hearing skills, and I would have respectfully scared the hell out of you once you were in your bedroom, with me sitting on your couch.”

Fair enough. Sometimes he forgot that she could hear better than normal. 

But thank god he hadn’t been showering, then. It would be a miserable experience to try to explain why he managed to throw a shampoo bottle at her square in the face while screaming bloody murder.

He watched through the mirror as she finally tilted forward enough to slip her hips through the window, and then the rest of her legs, and fell into a crouch as she tumbled from the high ceiling and onto the tiled bathroom floor and onto her feet. She raised her hand like a gymnast that completed her routine, bowing at the waist at the silent applause she was no doubt imagining in her head. 

He raised a brow at her, trying to look as unimpressed as possible as he could while half of his face was obscured by shaving foam. “What’s the bone, little kitty?”

She stopped herself before she even began, lowering her hands from her prepared speech to staring at him with comically wide eyes. “Whoa. You shave your face?”

His eyebrow twitched. “I have facial hair.”

She raised a clawed finger to her face, diamond pupils dilating into circles. “Huh. I never knew that.”

“Probably because you’ve never seen me with it before.” He stuck his tongue out at her for good measure. He suffered from the taste of the shaving cream, sputtering flakes of foam out of his mouth. Disgusting.

“You kidding me? I spend so much time here! You’ve never shaved once! I practically live here. I should get a key to your house.”

“If my dad found out that you had a key to the house, I think he’d have a fit.”

“Put a pin in that. I guess I’ve seen you with stubble before, maybe, but I don’t remember. Besides, I’ve looked through all your advertisements I could find on the internet! How was I supposed to know?” She nearly slipped on her own feet, feeling sheepish. “I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

He was eternally grateful that she couldn’t see him blushing behind the shaving cream. He never would’ve guessed that Noire had spent hours going through his work. Though it made sense that she had at least seen him once; his face was everywhere. Plastered onto billboards and internet advertisements, it was hard to get away from himself.

Even still, he couldn’t imagine Noire looking at his work through the computer, or even her phone. Outside of his room, he didn’t know anything about her other than what Plagg had said. She worked hard. Barely ever slept. She liked watching cat videos, and did her homework early. She had friends, and had said something about them once or twice. She had an affination for Alya, the girl who ran the Ladyblog.

She worried about her public appearance to the city of Paris. 

He’d been doing his best as he could as a civilian to mention her in interviews, or whenever his social media manager wanted a statement from him so it didn’t seem like the account wasn’t genuine. Mentioning Noire and how much he adored her was surprisingly easy, he found. He was never lying when he spoke to the interviewers, and he never lied what he wrote on his account. Everything came directly from his heart. Parisians seemed to be eating it up, always gossiping something or the other that Mister Bug’s heart belonged to Noire.

“What were you doing looking me up? Were you checking  _ meowt?” _

Noire’s domino mask pinched as her eyebrows lowered. “How dare you. Making a pun is a sacred art. You’re horrible at them.”

“They’re just as bad as yours.” He rolled his eyes. He rinsed the razer under cold water, tapped it twice, and shivered when he pressed it back onto his skin.

He got through all of two seconds before she spoke up again, and he tried not to smile and roll his eyes. Typical Noire. “Why are you shaving?”

“Because I don’t like having facial hair. I like having smooth skin.”

She hummed, sounding almost disappointed. “I think you’d look nice with facial hair.”

“You didn’t know I had any up until twenty seconds ago.” He laughed.

“So what?” She tsked, tossing her long braid over her shoulder, indignant. “I have great style. You should listen to me on fashion advice.”

He hated shaving the moustache area. It wasn’t like he had much of it, he shaved regularly because he hated how prickly it was when he left it alone for a bit. He needed extra concentration, and he couldn’t do that with Noire in the room with him. “Speaking of. Go into my closet and pick out an outfit for me.”

“What? What for?” Noire’s eyes flashed dangerously full of mischief. “Are you going on a date? You look fine the way you’re dressed now!”

Maybe she was right. Board shorts and a shirt were in style. But he felt that it wouldn’t be enough for his hangout for the night. The last thing he needed was to look back in front of Marinette.

“Not a date.” He rolled his eyes. “But I want to look presentable. It’s the first time I’m going over to her house. Her parents are going to be there. I want them to think I look okay.”

“You’re literally a model.” She punctuated her words by poking him the side using a knuckle, knowing that her claws would hurt too much. He squirmed at the touch. “A. Mo. Del. You are what dictates what becomes the fashion trend of the year!”

“My  _ dad _ is the person that dictates what becomes the fashion trend for the year. I’m just to the poor guy who has to wear it. Even if it’s hideous.” He laughed when her knuckles got too ticklish in his side. “Go find me an outfit that won’t make me look stupid. Stop looking at me like that, kitty, it’s  _ not _ a date.”

She laughed good humoredly, thin shoulders shaking. “Look at you, you’re blushing! It’s totally a date!”

Was he really blushing? He couldn’t tell in the mirror. His face was still filled with foam. “I’m only going to a friends house to talk about our school project.”

Noire was probably right-- he was blushing down to his core. They were talking about him going to  _ Marinette’s _ house, after all. Marinette. Marinette’s  _ house. _ He would know what her room looked like. What her parents were like. What she did in her spare time, if she had any. He got anxious just thinking about everything he’d know by the end of the night. It’d taken him the entire day to hype himself up, and Tikki had scolded him multiple times when he’d tried grabbing for his phone to cancel going. 

It had been already a struggle for him to not scathe and burn everytime his phone was in his pocket, knowing that Marinette’s number was programmed into it. He checked constantly to see if she’d sent anything other than confirmations of meeting up, and his stomach flipped everytime she sent one of her keyboard emoticons. She was so  _ cute. _

“Oh, sure. Totally.  _ Totally _ not a date.” She winked at him, giggling behind a gloved hand.

“Whatever, little kitty. At least tell me what I owe the great honor of the Hero of Paris showing up in my bathroom to scold me for shaving?” He shook his razer off into the sink, getting ready for another swipe.

“Yes! The bone! I have a bone to pick with you. It’s very important.” She peeked over his shoulder, grinning wide at herself in the mirror. Pearly whites shone back to her, and she momentarily distracted herself by clicking her jaw shut to make a satisfying  _ clack! _ noise, and Adrien tried not to laugh. Adrien’s greatest downfall would be Noire’s smile. He hoped Marinette could forgive him for that. “Right. Monsieur Adrien Agreste, I can’t let you coerce me into sleeping at your place any longer!”

“And why not?” He raised a brow at her. She had just said nearly a week ago that she was so thankful that she could sleep in his room whenever she needed it, and that her sleep schedule was still botched. Noire paced across his bathroom, busying herself with his curtains and with the string, batting the string between her hands. He laughed at her silence. “Let me take a guess. You’re officially a night owl from all the sleeping you’ve been doing in my room?”

“Ha! No!”

Interesting. “Hm. Did you fall asleep when you weren’t supposed to?”

Aha! Bingo! Noire flinched as his words, hexleather ears twitching at him figuring out her secret.

“Eek! Don’t you laugh at me!” She scowled, pacing around the room again to find something else to fiddle with. She twirled her hexleather tail for lack of anything else to do. It spun in a wide arc, reminding him of his yoyo.

“Was it at school, or something?” He pondered, loving the way she groaned. “During a lecture?”

He could see it. Noire at her desk, writing furiously into a notebook with a glittery pen-- pink, of course, if he knew her preferences enough-- passing out after writing one word because all of her exhaustion compounded onto her while learning the correct English verbal tenses. Or the dreaded ‘to be’ lectures. They had been enough to put  _ him _ on the brink of sleep. Noire was probably no different. English was hard.

She snored, sometimes, when the day was too long for her and his couch was the closest comfortable surface that she could rest on. It was truly amazing to watch someone fueled with the miraculous power fall asleep so easily. And then snore. Not loud, but definitely audible. He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to do it, if he tried sleeping as Mister Bug. Noire did it like a pro.

It was endearing to find a snoring black splotch on his couch, belly up and fingers twitching in her sleep. Other than the snoring, the only way for him to tell that she wasn’t dead was the constant movement of her lungs when she breathed. She was already so small, but her ribs moved hard in her sleep to give her enough oxygen. It was a hypnotic sight.

“You’re horrible.” She whined into her palms, her hexleather ears drooping further. “I see through your tricks! You pretend that you’re a Prince Charming to everyone and anyone, but I know who you are and what you do. You trick people into getting comfortable with you and then read them like an open book!”

“I’m not that bad.” He laughed.

“You’re horrible! Evil!” She cried out, “No akuma matches you. What are you, Hawkmoth’s son?”

He stuck his tongue out at her. “Low blow, kitty. You know I’m sensitive about being called evil. I am nothing if not charitable and a philanthropist.”

“Good! I hope that hurt your huge ego!” She humphed, her braid flicking over her shoulder. “I’m so embarrassed. I slept for hours because of you! I’m so glad I don’t have to go back until Monday. I could die. Sticky notes make for horrible pillows.”

“Was it a good nap, at least?”

“No.” She sniffled, but her pursed lips made it obvious she was lying. “It’s never as good as when you’re next to me. Your pillows smell like your new shampoo.”

“I don’t sleep on those pillows you use.” He deadpanned.

“Oh. Then they probably smell like my hair.” She shrugged. “I like the smell of coconut oil. Are you using coconut oil for your hair? It’s looking a lot shinier. You tossed out those old shampoo bottles I told you to, right?”

Not this again. They’d be here all night if she got into his cabinets.

“Go get my outfit ready?” He grabbed for the nearest towel and wiped the shaving cream residue off his face. He was pleased with his results, including the area where he had to concentrate the hardest but Noire was still in the room, but rubbed at his face to see if he missed anything just as a precaution. He shoed Noire off with his leg, pushing her out of the bathroom, and sending her cackling mischievously into his bedroom.

He wasn’t worried that she would find him a good outfit. If she’d seen his advertisements before, she probably knew what he looked best in. That, and she wasn’t wrong about him being able to wear essentially anything. He hoped she could find his jeans. They were probably too high on the shelf for her to reach.

He folded the towel back into place before Noire caught him disorganizing the bathroom. His maid had commented in passing that there was less and less for her to actually clean up after him, to which Adrien had no excuse other than to chalk it up to just being friendly and clean. He didn’t know how to bring it up that he currently had another maid who-- when not rescuing the city of Paris-- had put it upon herself to organize everything in his room.

He combed his fingers through his hair, trying to style it in some way that wouldn’t require taking any hair products out. He’d gotten rid of the silicon-full products that Noire had complained about, so he was down to maybe two or three bottles left in his cabinet. If she caught him trying to look for hair products in his hair, she would never believe him about this not being anything more than casual. Sue him for wanting to look good in front of Marinette.

“I still can’t get over that you shave.”

He nearly jumped out of his skin, and just barely held back the highest pitch of screaming that tried to leave his throat. “Wh--  _ Jesus-- _ how long have you been there? It scares me that you actually have the ability to be completely mute.”

“I’ve only been here for just a bit. I brought you your pants and a shirt. Is a polo too fancy for whatever you’re doing?” She looked down at the clothes she brought into his room, her smile catlike and coy. “Would you feel more comfortable just wearing a normal shirt? What’s the girl’s preference?”

“Not a date.”

“Sure.” She yawned into the back of her hand.

Oh. He felt bad. Maybe she’d come here to escape her civilian life so that she could sleep off her responsibilities. It was so common of her to do that, and yet he’d completely forgotten. “Are you tired? Why don’t you take a nap while I get ready? I’ll tell you when I have to leave.”

“I’m not tired enough for that.” She rubbed at her eyes, and gently handed him the black polo, careful with her claws. Her ears drooped as she continued to rub her eyes blind. “I just got out of babysitting for today, and the girl takes a lot of my energy out.”

“She must’ve been some akuma, if she got your energy out, am I right?” He pulled his shirt off, and tried to locate the opening of the polo.

She snorted, looking up to the ceiling for his modesty. “Little children are menaces! Little humans are always full of energy. You make them eat, you listen to their stories, you read them a book, and they still won’t fall asleep!”

“Sounds like someone I know.”

“Hey, you know I’m the same age as you, right?” She rolled her eyes. “Actually, I think I’m older than you by a couple of months.”

“You’re seventeen?” His head popped through the neck hole, and he looked at her in surprise.

“Turning eighteen this year, yep!” She scrunched her nose at him. “How old did you think I was, anyway?”

He wasn’t really sure. It was hard for him to gauge her age, if he had been honest. He knew that they went to a similar type of school system, meaning that they were in the same age level give or take a year. Her test week had been brutal, and it had taken her a long while to do all the homework for a class. He hadn’t actually thought of her age enough to come up with a concise answer. But since she was shorter than him, he always just assumed she was younger than him.

It was easy to place Noire in her own separate category, since he knew so little about her. As far as he knew, Noire didn’t exist outside of the akuma battles and the times where she came over to sleep. It was as if he had consolidated her entire existence to only when they interacted with each other. Adrien felt ashamed that he didn’t consider Noire existing outside of his house or an akuma. She had an entire life outside of him.

She babysat. She was the same age as him. Had troubles with boys at her school. She fell asleep during the middle of class. She loved watching anime with him, and had a black belt in aikido. She’d trained her entire life with bo staffs. She used to patrol every single night across the city of Paris to make sure that there was as little crime as possible. She fed her kwami cheese puffs, and couldn’t afford to by the expensive cheese that Plagg wanted.

She’d trained her entire life to become the ladybug miraculous holder, and had decided to become the first miraculous guardian that would be holding onto the cat miraculous to protect it. He knew that from his experiences with her via Mister Bug, when he’d offered to switch their miraculouses back that first day. He’d never forget how wide her eyes had gotten, how that pink blush had stained her cheeks, disappearing under the mask.

Master Fu was a family member of hers.

But other than that...

“I guess I didn’t think that you could be anything except younger than me,” He mumbled quietly after a long moment of thinking.

“How’s it feel to know that I’m older? Hm?” She crossed her arms, defiant, smiling at him with a quirk on her lips.

“Now wait just a minute. How do you know that you’re older than me?”

“Your birthday is public knowledge. Its listed on your wikipedia.” She rolled her eyes. “And as we’ve discussed, I’ve tragically binged looking at everything you have available online. Including knowing your birthday. And the many, many ads of perfume.”

For some innate reason, knowing that she’d gone through all of his public record didn’t make him feel ashamed like he thought he would be. He leaned into her space, poking her in the cheek. “Hm. When’s your birthday?”

“No way. You’re going to tell the Ladyblog!”

He mocked a fatal wound to the heart. “How can you say that? I’m your friend.”

As if he would ever sell her out. Noire’s secrets were going to the grave with him, even if he wished he could tell anyone about what he knew. It would put her in danger, publicly speaking about things about her. Hawkmoth could be anywhere. Not to mention that it would out him as a civilian that knew too much about super hero life. It could put him in danger, too.

She stuck her tongue out. “You mean to tell me you wouldn’t sell information about me for money?”

He pretended to give it some thought. “You make it sound like it’s a bad thing. A man has got to eat.”

She snickered. “Sell something from your closet, then! You have shoes that are worth more than my entire house. I saw your shoe collection. I am appalled that you even pretend to be in the common class.”

“You’re right. I’m drastically rich, and in need of changing my pants, so if you could please leave the bathroom while I put on the jeans you gave me?” He gestured towards the pair of pants she brought into the bathroom.

Her eyes widened, and she darted quickly out of the bathroom. He couldn’t help but laugh.

“What’s your date like?” She called from his room.

“Not a date.” He stripped free of his shorts.

“Is she cute? Who else is going?”

One pant leg on. The other one. “Not a date.” 

“Oh, so she  _ is _ cute.”

He smiled. “Yes. She’s pretty. Two other friends are going to show up at her house, too.”

“Ooh. You think she’s pretty, instead of cute? Like  _ actually _ actually?”

“No hyperfocusing on adjectives.”

“That’s like telling me not to breathe. Tell me more about her?” 

He snorted. “No. You’re not getting her name. I’m not telling you where I’m going. The last thing I need is for a stray kitty to show up at her door looking for me.”

Noire laughed. “Well, why do you care if she thinks anything about that? It’s not like it’s a date, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “Seriously. If I catch one whiff that you’re in the area, I’m revoking your couch rights.”

“Come on!” It was probable that she stamped her foot, but he wasn’t sure. “Just because of that, I want to tell her about how you’re obsessed with Sailor Moon.”

“I-- I’m not--  _ Oy--” _

“Don’t lie to me, I’ve seen your wand collection hiding between your books on your bookshelf.” She cackled loudly. “I know you know the entire the entire opening by heart. And you have a crush on Prince Endymion, I saw it-- I saw you cry when he died. And then lived. And then, well. Died again. In that one part.”

“You’re lying.”

“I absolutely am  _ not,” _ Her cheshire smile almost blinded him when he opened the door to scrunch his nose at her. “Oh, and what if she finds out about your Mermaid Melody collection?”

He balked, watching her skip across to the other side of his room, away from his long arms. Away from ticklish hands. “Hey, that’s sacred. Practically no one knows that magical girl anime.”

“But I do, and I know too much about you now. You fool. You buffoon. I am too powerful. Oh, and who could forget about Tokyo Mew Mew?” Her domino mask pinched in the middle as she smirked. “Shall I recite the sacred text to you?”

“Stop bullying me.” He deadpanned. 

“Who would’ve guessed you were a cat fan?” Her eyes sparkled.

“--Just because of this I’m not going to finish watching Ouran Highschool Hostclub with you--”

“Mew mew power, Mew mew grace--”

_ “--This is harassment--” _

“--Mew mew power in your face!” Noire had the audacity to do the hand moves that went along with the slogan with the skill of someone who had practiced countless times in the mirror. He wished he could call her out on the hypocrisy, but he knew that the conversation would just go back to why he knew the moves so perfectly, too. For the final blow, she even meowed convincingly.

So there was nothing to do except laugh. He dissolved into laughter so strong that he clutched his sides from hurting too bad. “You’re horrible. I can’t believe I consider you my best friend.”

She pointed at him like an villain delivering the final blow. “Face it! I know everything about you, sunshine! And there’s nothing you can do about it!”

He wiped at the tears from his eyes. “Are you sure?”

The mischief in her eyes was enough to solidify his decision. “I’m absolutely  _ pawsitive!” _

Ah, but there was  _ one _ thing he could do. He threw a pillow in her direction, with the accuracy of Mister Bug, almost catching her completely off guard. He watched the pillow arc and soar, deadset on hitting her square in the face. She squeaked at the pillow coming at her at top speed, grabbing for it with both hands. Bingo. 

He ran to her from across the room and tried grabbing her midsection, careful of her claws, and laughed hard when she yowled. She lifted her arms up, along with the pillow, keeping her claws away from him as much as possible, and attempted to worm out of his grasp. Perfect.

He tickled up the sides of her ribs with the advantage of having her hands up, and she laughed hard enough to cry, her tail whipping behind her. She squirmed in his hands with a mission, trying to escape him, without hurting, and without dissolving into a blabbering laughing mess.

He was brutal in the way he tickled. “Are you going to tell anyone that I watch Sailor Moon?”

“No, please--” She couldn’t stop the giggles from escaping. “Please--  _ please-- mercy-- _ I yield--”

“Or Tokyo Mew Mew?”

She squealed. “No! No!”

He wasn’t sure how much she could feel from being covered in hexleather, but he continued, teasing her on the ribs. “Do you  _ promise?” _

“I promise-- I--  _ promise--” _ She bit down on the pillow hard enough to tear with her canines, trying to stop herself from laughing too hard. “Yield,  _ yield!” _

* * *

The last step for him before knocking on the bakery door was to fix his miraculous.

He’d stopped at an alley close by to the bakery, but secluded enough to check for one last final time that they were in place. He would hate for one of the earrings to fall off without him noticing. 

He fiddled with the backing of the earrings that he’d poked through the lapels of his polo collar, making sure that they wouldn’t fall off. It was probably more wise for him to just bite the bullet and pierce his ears, and he knew that, but fighting the urge to scream when needles came close to him was a difficult thing. He hated needles. He’d pass out if he had to pierce his ears.

Tikki patted his shoulder apologetically, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking about. “Are you excited to see Marinette?”

“I think I’m a little bit  _ too _ excited.” He confessed, looking into the camera of his phone that Tikki held for him with her small arms, checking to see if the two black dots on his collar looked off or weird. His classmates and people who worked with him in general always knew that he wore the two earrings like broches on all his clothes, and it was surprisingly a very easy conversation starter when meeting new people. His excuse of ‘just trying to see how long it takes before it starts a new fashion trend’ was a very easy thing to convince people of.

It helped that the earrings were barely visible on the black fabric of his shirt.

“She doesn’t bite.” Tikki smiled.

“I know.” It didn’t help that the back of his throat felt tough and hard to swallow around.

“She’s not a shark.”

“I know, I know.” He stopped the urge to hit himself on the forehead, or lightly tap his face into the exposed brick wall in front of him. Probably not a good idea for him to get anywhere near the rain water covering the bricks, but still, the idea was tempting. “I’m freaking out. Tikki, what if I make a dumb joke? Or step on her foot? Or eat weird in front of her?”

Tikki laughed. “Adrien, you don’t need to worry. She isn’t going to mind if you do any of those things. She’s your friend.”

“Well it’s one thing to do it in front of Nino, or Kim. But she’s a girl. A girl that I  _ like.” _

Hell, he could take Alix’s constant belittling laughter in stride. She was like that to everyone. Sometimes she was worse than Noire when she caught whiff of weakness.

Tikki couldn’t stop laughing. “I’m a girl too.”

“You’re different, Tee.” He poked at her cheek, opening up his left hand to let her sit down on it. He lifted the phone gently out of hands and pocketed it. She sat comfortably in his palm, staring up at him with wide blue eyes, her smile gentle on her small face.

“She’s not going to find anything you do weird. I promise. And if you’re really worried, don’t be! I’ll be right there with you. I’ll be your good luck charm!” She patted his palm, giving him an encouraging smile. “Everything will be okay, Adrien.”

“Thank you, Tikki.” He planted a kiss on the top of her head. “I can do this.”

“You can do this!” She zipped into his side bag.

He could do this. He could  _ do this. _

He crossed the sidewalk, still pumping himself up in his head. He entered the bakery, lifting his eyes towards the ceiling when the door chimed, and tried not to chew on the inside of his cheek. 

The bakery was nearly empty, with some of the chairs already propped up to indicate that they were closing for the night. Last minute diners and customers loitered in the chairs still available, eating various sandwiches and ogled at him when they recognized who had walked into the bakery. Sometimes he forgot that he was considered famous, with or without the mask on. He tried not to feel more self conscious, making his way toward the counter to see if he could find anyone in her family, waving a polite hello to whoever recognized him.

Marinette’s head at the cash register popped up at the noise of the door, a pleasant smile on her face to welcome another customer, and she smiled wide in his direction when she recognized him. She stood up from her stool in front of the register, and patted at her mint green apron. “I was worried you weren’t going to show up! So glad you made it, Adrien!”

He couldn’t do this.

“H-hey.” He smiled as convincingly as possible, locking his knees up so that he couldn’t turn and run. She opened the little door beside the counter, beckoning him to the other side, oblivious to his inner turmoil. She turned the corner and poked her head through what Adrien presumed was the pantry, calling out to a family member.

“Adrien’s here! We’re going upstairs now, okay?”

Adrien tried not to stare at the back of her baby blue dress, or her small ballet flats. He definitely tried to stop himself from looking at her low pigtails, and the small little charms that hung from the hair ties that looked like they were in the shapes of little cakes. Oh, god, she looked so cute. And he absolutely positively didn’t stammer to himself when Marinette glanced back at him and made eye contact, blue eyes glittering.

“I’ll let you know when Nino and Alya get here.” Someone called back to her.

“Thanks, Mama!” She beckoned him with a wave of her hand. “Follow me. I’m so glad you’re here to finally get me out of working for the rest of my shift. I’ve been jumping back and forth between running the cashier and taking care of my baby cousin. I just can’t say no to that aunt, she’s so sweet, but I’m so tired.”

He could tell, somewhat. Her mascara was slightly smudged under her eyes, like she’d rubbed at them while yawning. “Hey, no worries. Glad I could help.” 

“I hope you don’t mind the mess! My cousin is a toddler, and she was in the house up until three hours ago, and I didn’t have the energy to put away the blocks she messed with today.”

He was sure it was fine. Just how bad could a toddler mess with a house?

Adrien glanced around the kitchen of the bakery, to the racks dotted with trays of rising dough, to the clean surfaces littered with different sized cakes, all painted white. Still baking wedding cakes. He hoped Marinette caught up on her sleep from the day before.

From the kitchen, she wormed her way behind a particular rack of food, grabbing his arm by the wrist to follow. He tried not to stumble. Her hand felt like a branding on his wrist, and Adrien blushed at the contact-- her finger and thumb couldn’t touch when encircled around his wrist, she was  _ too small. _ He didn’t even notice her opening another door, leading them out of the bakery kitchen, and into a stairwell.

He paid special close attention to the staircase, respectfully keeping his eyes off her while they climbed the stairs. “T-that’s okay. I don’t mind any mess. I’ll make sure to step over them.”

They climbed three levels of stairs, her hand never leaving his wrist. She had on a ring, he realized. Bracelets, too. Small and silver, the ring matched the bracelets on her wrist. 

The bracelet charms were somehow smaller, dantier, than he could ever imagine jewelry being-- and he recognized them as profiles of animals separated by a pearl. A bee, a fox, a turtle, a cat, a dog, a ladybug… all of it glittered in the stairwell light, complimenting the soft shine of her mint colored nail polish. Adrien felt horrible for staring intently at her hands.

“--And I’m not lying when I say they’re everywhere!”

She finally let go of his hand when they reached their destination in the small hallway just next to the stair landing. She twisted the handle with the hand that had seared his wrist permanently, oblivious to the way Adrien cradled his hand like he was injured. She slipped off her flats, showing him where he could put his shoes. He hoped he was wearing the same colored socks.

Marinette hadn’t been joking about there being a mess of blocks in the living room. He had expected it to be concentrated into one area, but they were  _ everywhere, _ littering the floor and making it a game of Mission Impossible to reach the other side of the room. He winced when he stepped on a block, looking around bewildered.

“Oh wow.”

“It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?” Marinette bit her tongue. She gestured to the tower of blocks on the dining table, and then looked behind her towards the couch. “I mean she was only here for six hours at the most. Bridgette, my aunt, wanted to help me put it away but I told her I would do it after my shift… Maybe I should put it away now?”

“You don’t--  _ ow-- _ have to.” He stepped on another block. Maybe his feet were too big. He considered it for a moment, trying not to wince as his foot ached. “Okay. Maybe we should at least put them in one place before your parents walk in and trip on them? Or clear a path?”

“Great idea! You can push them over to me and I’ll put them on the rug.” She looked around her, unclear where to begin. She dropped to the floor where she was to start collecting blocks, using the length of her dress as a hammock to hold as many blocks as possible, and Adrien suddenly remembered of his interaction with her the night before with the plant.

His face heated, remembering her unashamed flirting. Him and Noire were accustomed to the occasional fan asking for a date-- including one akuma that had started because Noire had very firmly turned him down after him begging her for pictures with her, or an actual relationship. His blood had boiled, and that was one of the only moments Adrien was certain that he would’ve turned into an akuma from rage, if the other man hadn’t been targeted as the new akuma first.

It wasn’t as if Noire couldn’t defend herself. One crack of the butt end of her staff would’ve surely sent the man to the hospital. But he hadn’t been able to shake off the bad feeling when the man kept trying to make a grab for her, his hands getting weirdly closer to her lower back.

She hadn’t even used her staff. She’d used the back of her leg to drop him to the floor, and hopped away, telling him that she wasn’t interested. The akuma had followed quickly after.

He’d gotten his fair share of fans, too. It was something that he’d basically grown up with, since he was already a child prodigy. It wasn’t something he was particularly fond of showing off about, but the fact that he was used to the ever-present eyes on him had made it easy to shrug off any fans that had been enamoured with the rising superhero.

But he’d never imagined that  _ Marinette  _ was interested in Mister Bug. Where had he been when she’d shared that information? Had no one had the heart to tell him that he had no chance with her because Mister Bug existed? His brain hurt just from thinking about it.

He focused on the blocks in his hands.

The blocks must have costed a good hundred euros or more to accumulate. They ranged from sizes as big as his palm to the size of his shoe, scattered with the care of a small child. Some stacks of blocks built earlier in the day stayed strong and built well, but most looked like they’d been torn down by the slightest jostling. Each pile of blocks were slightly different wood textures, like her family had been keeping old wooden blocks from years prior but buying new ones to supplement the collection. 

There was certainly enough blocks to build a life-sized house.

He carried as much as he could in the small hammock he made with his arm, and carefully made his way over to her with as little foot damage as he could conjure. She smiled up at him, blue eyes sparkling.

Most of the blocks were clear when she finally patted her thighs, happy with the result. “Thank you for helping. You’re great!”

“I-I’m always here to help.” He quirked his mouth into a smile. “It’s no big deal.”

She rolled her eyes. “It is a big deal to me. I’m not just talking about the toys, I’m talking about in general. You’re so sweet to me, Adrien. I definitely don’t deserve it.”

His face flushed red.

“Speaking of which!” She patted her thighs again, bringing his attention back onto her instead of the lint on his jeans. “I have something for you to thank you for not making fun of me yesterday.”

Was she talking about napping, or about what happened between her and Mister Bug? “I wouldn’t make fun of you.”

“No, probably not,” She laughed, placing a well-meaning hand on his bicep and giving him a little squeeze, short-circuiting Adrien’s brain. He couldn’t feel his face. “Although I’ve been told that I snore sometimes when I sleep. Sorry you had to put up with that. Now that we can walk to the kitchen without losing feeling in our toes, come with me! I have a present.”

He wandered behind her, to the counter in the kitchen that had a wrapped paper bag. Nevermind his face, he couldn’t feel his  _ arm. _ Marinette pulled the bag closer to them, gesturing to him that it was his. A pale pink ribbon sticker shut the paper bag closed, with the clear script of the bakery’s logo in gold foil lettering. He didn’t know whether to keep it closed, and let the sticker live on happily, or snap the sticker off to peek inside. “Oh. Thank you, Marinette.”

He was going to cherish it forever.

She beamed. “You don’t have to open it right now. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t. I spent a good five minutes trying to get that tag on there to stay, so I’d like to enjoy the packaging a little while longer. It’s a bag of cookies! I’d noticed that you brought them to school, so I’m assuming they’re your favorite. Chocolate chip is always a fan favorite, right?”

He brought the cookies to school for his kwami. Always chocolate chip, to make it easier on the cooks. Tikki would  _ love _ the gift. He smiled elatedly at her, the paper bag in between his two hands. “Thank you, Marinette. Chocolate chip is my favorite. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

Was that a blush on Marinette’s face? She ducked her head too fast for him to see, and he preoccupied himself by placing the cookies into his side bag, hands clammy and missing the zipper. “N-no problem! Okay, follow me up the stairs into my room. You brought the documents, I hope?”

“I brought everything, yeah.” He patted his shoulderbag, as if he’d forgotten where it was. God, he was just so awkward. Why couldn’t he just  _ speak? _ Why couldn’t he just talk to Marinette like he could with Noire? 

He followed her up the stairs outside the kitchen, mulling to himself about how he shouldn’t feel as awkward, that he was just trying to be friendly, when Marinette spun on the ball of her foot, arms spread out from wall to banister, looking down at him with a frightened look.

She brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “Uhm. One more thing.”

“Y-yeah?” Marinette had freckles. Marinette had  _ freckles. _ How had he not known this before until now?

She curled her shoulders in on herself, shy. “I’m in the very slow process of making a shirt out of tulle and there is just tulle  _ everywhere.  _ Seriously. It looks like a birthday party in the back of my room exploded onto this poor mannequin. Oh, also, please ignore the dress form, it is horribly pinned. This shirt was supposed to be done ages ago but I just haven’t had the time to finish it.”

He smiled wide despite himself. “Oh, yeah. That’s fine. Don’t worry, I’m okay with messes.”

He wondered if Noire would’ve been able to handle herself if she’d heard him say that. Noire would have spent hours putting away the blocks in the correct place, and helping Marinette pin the tulle correctly on the dress form if she’d heard someone having an organizing emergency.

Marinette’s face crossed between an offended grimace, and an amused smile. “Okay. Alright. Fair warning, I guess. Since there are no further objections, and I’m done stalling, come up the stairs with me.”

She peeled back the raising floor to reveal her room, and held the door up from falling onto his head when he crossed through. The first thought he had was that there was so much pink.

There was so, so much pink. Way too much than he had been expecting. Her walls were the soft color of peach, and spacious tall walls made for an interesting loft in her room. He looked around, trying to take in as much of the sight as he could without feeling creepy or odd. 

The second thought he had was that there was surprisingly way more green than he’d ever imagine.

Marinette’s room looked like a greenhouse. There were collections of potted plants everywhere on sturdy white shelves, each plant looking larger than the last. They ranged in height, from small little cups with what an untrained eye would call cacti, to tall broad leaved plants that sat in heavy planters. They flanked the largest wall in her room, a canopy of hanging plants with trailing vines creating a divider for the room to what looked like a vanity table and the door to her bathroom.

He glanced to his right to a humidifier churning out whisps of steam, and to the tall windows against the wall with plants soaking in as much sun as possible.

He had no idea Marinette liked plants this much. Like? No.  _ Love.  _ There was easily a hundred different plants in the room, populating the edges of all the table space of the room.

Finally, he looked for the Mister Bug posters she’d mentioned the last night, and her collection did not disappoint. Sprawled over the entire back wall behind the dress form were collages and posters of the two super heroes of Paris, but something about it was distinctly filled with more red than black images. 

Photos that the Ladyblog had taken were cut out and sticky tapped to her wall, along with paint chips that matched or little notes written on pretty stationary. He was impressed by the amount of detailing she’d put into making the collage into something worth putting up on her wall, not a haphazard collection of random items.

In his appreciation of the gorgeous collage, he picked out Noire’s autograph scrawled on beautiful cardstock, as well as a torn out interview from a magazine that Mister Bug and Noire had given to a fashion magazine. He remembered that Noire had been head over heels when she heard that they’d be on the cover of the magazine. The memory brought a smile onto his face, and he gazed lovingly at the handwritten note that Noire had written on the cardstock.

_ Never give up and never give in! We’ll do whatever it takes! --Lady Noire _

Adrien’s smile deepened, knowing the brainstorm session for her to come up with her quote had taken nearly a full day at his house while they’d taken a break from playing the DDR machine he had in his room.

He hadn’t expected Marinette’s room to be so  _ full. _ His room was full too, but with the added space, it was easy to forget that he had a rockclimbing wall. Or a zipline. Or half of a basketball court. And nearly a full library. Marinette’s room was packed with color in the way that his wasn’t, and he dimly wondered if he should buy a cactus to make it less empty.

“Oh! I forgot to mention that.” Marinette waved her hands in front of him to get his attention. He looked back down to her, where she blushed heavy and crimson. “I should’ve warned you that I’m in love with the heroes of Paris.”

“Never would’ve guessed.” He tried to put on a friendly smile, already plotting if he could show up at her house again and give her the missing Mister Bug autograph she needed. She would probably be ecstatic. He even had his quote that he used for fans ready, and everything.

She giggled, catching on that he was trying not to laugh. “Hey, don’t tease! I’m sure you have something you’re obsessed with.”

He was so thankful that Noire wasn’t here to spill the beans about his obsession with anime. He’d be mortified. His smile twitched, and he busied himself by fiddling with the strap of his bag.

She pointed to the table she’d set up in the middle of her room, two chairs on either side for them to work out their plan that they were going to propose to the principal. At the edges of the desk there were potted plants with glazed pink terracotta pots. He took off his shoulder bag, trying to make conversation. “Who’s your favorite superhero?”

“Oh. I’m going to have to say Mister Bug.” There was an air of playfulness as she said it, dipping into her hip as she thought about her answer. “Yeah. Definitely Mister Bug.”

“Not Lady Noire?”

Marinette shook her head, eyes twinkling. “She’s cool. I love her. But I’m invested in Mister Bug. He has such beautiful eyes, and he’s just so kind and nice.”

“I’m-- sure he appreciates it.” He choked back a harsh swallow, his blush hot enough to cook eggs. He flipped his bag open and searched for his tablet pen, cursing himself for not putting it in a better location or a place easier to reach. 

“What about you? Do you like Mister Bug?”

He pulled the pen out triumphantly. “He’s okay.”

She almost looked offended. “Just okay?”

“Well, I don’t really know him,” Adrien fumbled, searching for answers in his brain. He unlocked his tablet, scrolling through the home screen for the app they needed. “We talked briefly because I wanted to ask him about the whole campaign to make people like Noire as much as I do, but I haven’t really  _ talked _ to him.”

“I think what you and Mister Bug did was incredible.” She confessed, sitting across from him on the table, reaching for her tablet that charged at the end of one of the sides. She checked the plant closest to her for something, glancing over the leaves and scrutinizing it for something he didn’t know. “I feel like people really listened to you guys about Noire. She looks so much happier now!”

“She’s never had a bad reputation,” He smiled when she nodded religiously to his words, pulling away from the leaves of the plant. “But I felt upset that, unless you were a creep, no one really had her as a favorite. Well. I’m not a creep. And Noire’s always been my favorite. I saw the videos online about how people would harass her.”

Not to mention a few akumas that got dangerously close to making Adrien suddenly become a murderer.

“Alya’s mentioned that she’s getting a lot more views now when the topic is on Noire. I think your PR stunt really worked!” Marinette leaned into her open palm. “Noire is super cute. It’s so nice that people are thinking the same now, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, definitely.” He wondered if Noire knew that Marinette was interested in superheroes.

He scrolled through his files on the tablet, looking for the document he needed to pull up, almost missing out on her question. “So you think she’s cute?”

He blinked slowly, registering her question. “Ah. Uhm. Noire?”

“Yeah!” Her eyes glittered. “You agree that she’s super cute?”

Noire would be cackling if she knew he’d been put on the spot like this. His face heated. “Y-yeah. She’s super cute.”

“I mean, you must totally love her,” Marinette gestured to him. “If you’re wearing her pawprint on you.”

Adrien frowned. “What do you--”

She laughed. “Your polo?”

He glanced down to his shirt, looking for what she was referring to. Right over his chest was the stitched neon green pawprint that was customary on Noire’s merchandise. How could he have missed it? He wanted to groan, thump his forehead with the edge of his tablet. Of course his kitty would put him in her colors. If she couldn’t follow him to Marinette’s house, she’d just find another way to be with him.

“Yeah. I-- you know how it is. Favorite fan of hers, and all that.” He chuckled, shaking his head softly.

* * *

“So we have the plans for the hotel, the plans for the sightseeing, and the plans for the transportation.” Marinette waved her hand over the general area on the schedule board she’d pulled out.

Underneath her mezzanine was a thick roll of paper that he hadn’t noticed until she’d pulled on the handle and revealed a white projector screen. She’d batted at a leaf that had gotten stuck onto the roll, and had struggled to reach for the top of the handle with how short she was. He wanted to help her out, but one shake of her head and the set of her brows told him that she’d wanted to do this on her own.

“Right.” He glanced at the PDF file he’d compiled on the app. “We also have prices for each. It’s below the budget, somehow. How’d you find such cheap flight tickets?”

She grinned. “Airline companies are desperate to have whole groups guaranteed to board them. Who would’ve thought that there were magic words when trying to make plans with flying companies?”

He took a piece of the scones on the glazed plate. Marinette’s mom had appeared sometime within the past hour with treats, claiming that Alya and Nino weren’t yet here. She’d been welcoming and friendly when he’d hugged her in a greeting, telling him that she was so happy to meet him. He was happy that Marinette’s mom liked him.

He hummed around his food. “List out the plan for me.”

She nodded, spinning on her heels to face the screen filled to the brim with sticky notes of wildly different colors. “Take a bus from the school to the airport.”

He followed along on the file. “Okay.”

“We’d get there at least four hours before the flight happens, so we’d have to get to school already before school would normally start. We want to be at the airport early, in case somehow Chloe manages to akumatize someone.”

He laughed. “Right.”

“Give some time for the heroes of Paris to fix any damage.” She pointed to another sticky note as if he would be able to follow the chaos that was the rainbow colors. “Let Mister Bug do his magic. The class will no doubt want a photo with them, so that will take a while.”

Adrien pursed his lips. Hm. He’d kind of forgotten about how he would be leaving the country for a week-- he needed to tell Noire that he’d be gone during the summer for a field trip. If they truly were the same age, then that meant that she’d be going on her end of the year field trip too. He hoped it wouldn’t be during the same time as him, or else they would definitely be hitting a snag.

“Adrien?”

“Yeah, sorry,” He tried not to kick himself under the table. “What’s next?”

She nodded. “Our flight is at Noon, but given that delays could happen if there’s an akuma, we’ll probably leave later.”

“It’s a nine-hour flight to New York City.”

She sighed, hand on her hip as she searched her sticky notes. “That’s a lot. But it’s a much better than the fourteen-hour flight to Rio.”

He shrugged. “We could use that to our advantage.”

“It would also save us an extra day, although I’m not really sure.” She bit her lip. “I’m sure lots of people are going to be jet-lagged. I put in an extra day for us to do nothing, the day after we arrive in New York City. Sightseeing Times Square, or sleep in. It’s their call.”

“The next day after that would be the statue of liberty.” He scrolled on his tablet, pausing at the next item. “And the sight-seeing cruise?”

“I heard it was a good idea.” She smiled. “It’s just a boat, not really a cruise. I think I’d call it a ferry, to be honest. It’s a good place to see the skyline of the city. It passes the statue, and it would be night time by the time we got back to shore.”

“I hope we don’t have anyone who’s seasick.”

She hummed to herself. “If someone wants to skip, we could have a second group do more walking around. I think the pier that we dock on has a fair on it, or at least has places to sit.”

He tapped it onto his tablet and turned to hear the trapdoor opening behind him.

Adrien smiled at the sight of a familiar face popping through the door. “Knock knock! Special delivery of one beautiful girl and one radical dude.”

Marinette laughed. “It’s about time you two got here, Nino! Come on in!”

“Just checking that nothing nefarious was happening before we entered,” Alya raised a brow in Adrien’s direction. He tried not to sputter.

If Marinette understood what Alya had meant, she didn’t show it. “We’re working on our proposal to the student body.”

Nino placed a large and greased paper bag on the table next to Adrien, giving his hair a good tussle as a greeting. The bag encompassed the majority of the tablespace left, and Adrien wondered what would come out of it. “Mari, dude, you’re going to drive Adrien insane with the amount of planning you do. I’m sure your project for our field trip is perfect.”

Marinette’s face heated, biting her tongue as she hid her hands behind her.

“Don’t tease her, Nino.” Alya laughed. “She’s just doing her job.”

“I don’t mind going over the stuff.” Adrien shrugged.

“I’m sorry.” She squeaked, shy. “I’m trying to make sure everything’s ready for the Principal!”

Nino laughed as he hugged her. She was so small that he had to bend down to get his arms around her, greeting his old friend in a hug tight enough to make audible bone cracking noises. Marinette giggled. “It’s already perfect, Mari, I promise. We don’t expect it to be anything else.”

Adrien knew that Nino and Marinette had known each other since they were younger. It was what Nino kept telling him every time Adrien floundered or flubbed in front of her, telling him that she wasn’t as terrifying as he felt. She was just a girl. Nino had known her since the first year of school together, all those years ago. Through thick and thin, Nino and Marinette were always friends.

Nino had been Adrien’s first friend in school, when he’d finally managed to get out of being homeschooled. The young DJ had instantly grown on him, and he was so thankful to have someone as relaxed and chill in his life. Everyone else seemed to be a whirlwind, but it was mostly Noire.

Alya sat down on the other side of the table, facing Adrien with a wink. “You two hungry? We brought dinner.”

Marinette cooed at the paper bag. It was large enough for her to fit inside. “What’d you bring?”

“We went to that one Arabic place that opened up near my place,” Nino shrugged nonchalantly, and Marinette bounced on her toes. He dug his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, acting as if he couldn’t see Marinette ready to pounce on the bag. “Alya wanted to get those sfihas.”

“No way!” Marinette practically jumped back over to the table, peeling the handles of the bag away from each other to peer inside. She had to stand on her tippy toes in order to look in. “Are these the--”

Alya rolled her eyes fondly. “Open pizza version? You know it, babe.”

“We got you six, since we know you inhale them one at a time.” Nino pulled out the chair from her vanity table, shouldering through the hanging vines that separated the room. “We didn’t know what type you’d like, Adrien, so we got you four of the meat one.”

It was no surprise to anyone that Marinette’s favorite thing to do was taste new foods. She was always asking the group to go out to lunch in new places that had opened up in the area, dragging them to stores and restaurants that had been opened the day before. It was like she kept track of them in the area, or something of the sort.

Most of the places they went to they enjoyed-- most of all Marinette, who soaked up the new atmosphere and food like a sponge-- and there were very few times they would hit duds. She’d apologize everytime it happened, as if they hadn’t gone willingly with her.

Adrien found the lunches during their breaks fun and interesting. He didn’t pay attention to the food he got, more focused on Marinette enjoying herself. Aside from the obvious of him trying his best to hang out with her without combusting into pieces, it was nice to see her happy and not worry about all the work she had to do when getting back to school.

Marinette placed the bagged food on the table. He didn’t know what he was looking at, but he watched her place four pizza-looking discs in front of him. Each sfiha was individually wrapped in a wax paper bag, about the size of his palm. His pile smelled strong of onion, and garlic, and immediately his mouth began to water.

“These are my favorite,” Marinette informed him, as if he hadn’t already assumed from how she bounced on her feet. “Can you get me a chair, Alya?”

“I think Nino just took the last one.”

Marinette bit her tongue. “Oh.”

Adrien blinked. “One from downstairs? I saw a couple in the living room.”

“They’re too heavy to bring up the stairs.” Nino sighed, pursing his lips in thought.

“Nino almost cracked the staircase when he slipped with the chair in his hand.” Marinette filled in, giving Adrien a shrug.

They all sighed in unison.

“You can sit on my lap while we eat, it’s okay.” Alya patted at her jeans, pulling away from the table enough to make room. “You weigh like a mouse anyway, you won’t squish me.”

“But you’ll only be able to eat with one hand if you do that.” She pouted. “And sfihas are a two hand endeavour.”

Alya laughed goodhumordly. “I think I can manage.”

Adrien leaned back in his chair. “How heavy is the chair? Seriously, Nino and I could bring it up no problem.”

“You sure, dude?” Nino looked at him skeptically. “I mean, they’re  _ really  _ heavy.”

“It’ll be fine.” How much could a chair weigh?

* * *

A lot.

They could weigh a lot.

“I could eat about eight more of those.” Marinette sighed into her chair.

His arms hurt.

“That was delicious.” Alya sat back in hers, rubbing tiredly at her can of soda, collecting the condensation on her fingers.

“You still have one left, you know.” Nino pointed to the one wax paper bag she hadn’t touched.

“I told you already, that’s for later! I like saving the cheese one for the next day.”

“Will you be able to handle yourself waiting for that long?”

She nodded happily. “Absolutely!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed it!   
> i promise you we'll see each other next week!
> 
> Lots of Love,  
> FragileIzy<3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm early this time! That's a first!!!
> 
> I'm adding a slight warning for this chapter: there's mention of alcohol (although neither Adrien nor Marinette drink), and there's also mention of spiked drinks (even though no one's drink has been spiked). Just giving you a fair warning before you read!
> 
> Also... I have added once again to the chapter count. Eep. Sorry!!! But also not sorry. It's so hard to stop writing for this AU, I'm having so much fun ;_;
> 
> That being said, enjoy!

“Become the orange juice.  _ Become _ the orange juice. Become the  _ orange juice.” _

Adrien tried not to cry at his predicament, his hands tangling into the yarn. He turned in his desk chair, back to Noire who had set up a little mint green yoga mat on the floor, and was currently chanting far too loudly than was for comfort. Maybe the knitting was just bothering him to the point where anything was setting him off, but he wasn’t sure. He blinked tiredly at her as she breathed deeply, legs crossed underneath her. “What are you doing?”

“Meditating.”

“How?”

She smiled wide at him, fangs shiny. “I learned this online. The internet is great.”

“No, I meant--” Tired laughter built up at the back of his throat, and he dragged a hand across his face. “What’s with the… the whole chanting thing?”

She looked at him like he was stupid. “I’m trying to become orange juice.”

He scrunched his nose. “Any reason why?”

“Oh, you know.” The glint of her eye almost went feral. “I gotta become  _ concentrated.” _

He inhaled sharply.

“Do you take constructive criticism?”

“Sorry, Prince Charming, I actually only take cash or credit.”

He couldn’t keep himself from laughing. “I’m kicking you out.” 

“No way! That was a good one!”

“You don’t deserve me to agree.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over my meditation. It’s good for my mind, you know.” She closed her eyes again, dipping her hands forward onto the mat, resting her forehead just in front of her seated legs. “You look stressed, sunshine! Why don’t you give the knitting a break and come join me?”

“I can’t. I’m working on the scarf, it needs to be done soon.” He gestured to the ball of yarn on his lap.

“And you’re doing great, no doubt! But relax a bit. I’m sure she’ll be okay with you taking a break.”

“She doesn’t even know I’m making her this. Maybe this was a bad idea. I’ve made no progress in three months. I wanted to give it to her before our field trip. I only have a month left.”

Noire’s tail lashed as she stretched her arms far away from her. “Hey, don’t give up now! You’re getting really good at it!”

“Not good enough to give it to her.”

“I’ve never heard you so defeated before in my life, Adrien.” She pulled back from her seated position, and dipped her hands down so she could force herself into a handstand. It was mesmerizing to watch her flexible limbs stretch and turn, he couldn’t deny that, but the absurdity of her trying to give him a pep talk while focused on handstands made him want to laugh or cry. He couldn’t decide which one.

“Help me out here?”

She  _ oofed! _ as she fell out of her handstand, sliding onto her feet instead. Adrien watched dejectedly as she came closer, her head tilted to the side to look at him with curious green eyes. “You’re stressed out about something else, too, aren’t you sunshine?”

His grin felt frail. “Am I that obvious?”

“No.” Her ears fell flat against her head as she worried her lip between her teeth. How she didn’t puncture herself with those shiny canines, he’d never know. “I just know you well enough to recognize it.”

He sighed.

“What’s wrong, Charming? Maybe I can help.”

He pushed the yarn and the needle away, resting back into his chair, playing with the handrests and clicking them back and forth with the button on the side. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do. I’m stressed out about the class meeting I’m going to have tonight.”

“Why are you stressed? Are you worried about something?”

“It’s about our end of the year field trip.” He sighed again. “We’re presenting our case to the entire class-- there’s about four hundred or so of us-- and we have to speak in front of everyone. Me and my partner have been practicing for the whole week, which is why I haven’t been home.”

She’d mentioned in passing that she’d try showing up at his window throughout the week. He didn’t like letting Noire see an empty house-- he of all people knew how lonely it was to come home to nothing.

But he’d needed to go to Marinette’s house for the week. She’d been worried, and needed to plan (‘over-plan’, Nino had corrected lovingly, while Marinette had flicked him in the elbow, making him curse to hell and back because it hurt down to the bone). Marinette wanted to make sure everything they had while presenting their case was everything they needed, and that nothing was missing. It didn’t help that she’d admitted to having memory issues, which was why she was constantly asking to reevaluate their speech.

He was grateful that she was able to tell him. Adrien never would’ve known that she had the memory problem, given that she was always going above and beyond everyone in terms of academics, or making sure that everything was in order. He hadn’t known that the reason she overworked was because she had a shoddy short term memory.

But Marinette did wonderful, even if she had a memory problem. Truly, he couldn’t tell that she had it-- even now that he knew. She’d perfected her lines and the slideshow to the point where it was second skin.

But now he was worried for  _ his _ part. It was different for him being on stage or on a runway, walking was something he did without thinking. But this was not the runway. And Marinette was counting on him.

Noire cocked her head. “Are you worried that you’re going to mess up?”

“It would be fine if I was up there alone, but there’s someone counting on me.” Adrien bit into his cheek. “I don’t want to let her down.”

Noire smiled. “Adrien, you’d never be able to let anyone down.”

“I’m a little nervous.”

“It’s okay to be nervous.”

“We’ve been practicing all week.”

“If something happens, it won’t be the end of the world, sunshine. She wouldn’t be mad if something happened. At the end of the day, they’re not going to be focusing on you. They’re going to be focusing on the presentation.”

He’d fought akumas before. Those were the end of the world. High stakes would be Hawkmoth taking his miraculous from him. Higher stakes would be Hawkmoth taking Noire’s miraculous from her. And they fought akumas every week, to the point where it was even becoming a game to see who can get to the akuma first.

Noire was right. Him messing up during a presentation wouldn’t be bad. “You’re right.”

“Besides, what are you worried that you’ll mess up on?”

He floundered. “Maybe something like clicking the forward button too fast while she’s still talking?”

It sounded kind of stupid, saying it out loud. Who cared if that happened?

Noire giggled. “She definitely won’t fault you over that! What kind of friend is she if you think she’d get upset over something like that?”

“She isn’t a bad friend. Not in the slightest.” He shook his head, moving his hands around, trying to gesture something, but nothing was coming to mind-- he just flailed his hands, instead. “I just. You know. I want to be her support. The way that you do to me. The way you’re doing now.”

“Awh, Adrien!” She tucked him into a big hug. She was taller than him for once in his life, him sitting down at his rolly desk chair, and her leaning over to him to press her cheek firmly into his hairline. Her thin arms wrapped around his shoulders, and he breathed the scent of the coconut oil in her hair close to her neck. She was small in his arms as he hugged back, enjoying the warmth that radiated off of her.

“You’re my best friend, you know that, right?” He murmured into her mandarin collar.

“You’re my best friend, too.” She hummed happily, her nails carding through his hair. She used her knuckles to massage his neck. “And best friends tell each other the truth. You  _ are _ her support, I guarantee it.”

“You don’t even know her.”

She giggled, petting his hair back. “I don’t need to, because I know  _ you.  _ You’re a wonderful friend, Charming. You’re kind, and caring, and are always looking out for others--” 

He blushed. “Yeah, but--”

She pouted. “Let me finish! You leave your window unlocked in the bathroom so that I always have somewhere to go in case life at home gets too hectic. You let me sleep on your couch whenever you’re here, and you’ve even told me on multiple occasions that it’s okay for me to sleep on your bed if I’m feeling too restless. You even let me use your bathroom, and let me detransform if I need to.”

“That’s what friends do.” He didn’t know how to reply, too stunned at her passion behind her words.

“Well, yeah. Obviously. Good friends do that for their friends. And you are my bestest, goodest friend.”

He laughed dryly into her clavicle. “I think you’re just trying to butter me up.”

“No, Adrien, I really mean it. I do everything I can to be just as kind and nice and  _ good, _ just like you. You’re like a golden retriever but in human form. How could anyone think of you as a bad friend, when all you do is care about others?”

“I don’t know.” He felt himself shiver down to his toes when she massaged a certain part of his neck. Her knuckles worked tirelessly to pull knots out from the muscle that he didn’t know even existed, and his head bobbed from the weight of her fingers pressing into his skin. Maybe Noire had gotten some part of massage training from Master Fu as part of her miraculous guardian training, and he never knew. Even still, he felt like he was turning into putty in her hands.

Noire hummed, bringing him back from falling asleep. “Tell you what, if something happens and you’re upset about it, and you think you’ve let her down-- I’ll be right here for you to talk about it. We’ll even watch Tokyo Mew Mew over and over together until you forget what the problem even was. I want to be here for you like you always are for me.”

“You already are always here for me.”

Her tail flicked. “Well, I want to be always here for you  _ more. _ You’re my best friend in the entire universe and even more than that, and I want to be there for you forever.”

He couldn’t help himself from chuckling, squeezing her into a hug hard enough to make her lose her breath. “Okay, okay. Thanks, kitty.”  
  
She sighed when he let her breathe. “Good! Now that you’re feeling better, come do yoga with me! I think you deserve to stretch out your quads.”

He snorted. “Do you even know what body part that is?”

“No. But it sounds funny.” She repeated the word over and over, devolving into laughter when he poked at her sides to get her to stop.

“Where’s the off button on you?”

She squealed, slinking away from his ticklish hands. “No, sorry! I can’t tell you! You’ll tell Hawkmoth.”

As if he’d ever.

* * *

Marinette couldn’t stop  _ squeezing his hand. _

Which was fine, truly.

Really.

Adrien didn’t need to breathe-- he didn’t need to use his brain for anything except watch her small, petite, perfectly manicured hand squeeze with the force of an adult man around his knuckles. He couldn’t tell if he’d lost his feeling in his fingers because of his ineptitude to be calm and fine in these situations, or because she was squeezing the blood out of them.

Marinette had never grabbed his  _ hand _ before.

It was different from when he had gone over her house the first time, the wrist didn’t count. Not anymore. Not when he knew that Marinette’s fingers were small and tiny and soft and could fit so well in his palm. Dear god. 

Either way, Adrien couldn’t stop staring at their joined hands, completely ignoring the other president’s speech.

The auditorium had filled up about halfway with everyone in their graduating class, though seriously, Adrien was more focused on more  _ pressing matters at hand, _ Noire’s laughter at the pun be damned. Everyone was allowed to sit wherever they wanted to, and while most of their classmates had conglomerated together, Alix and Kim had branched off from their group to sit with their other friends from other classes. He could hear Alix in the front of the rows, snickering about how the president trying to welcome everyone was sweating profusely under the stage lights.

Adrien hoped that it wouldn’t be him in a couple of minutes.

“Hey, New York, right?” Another student came up to them.

Adrien turned to face them, still anchored to Marinette, who bit tirelessly on the flesh of her thumb on her other hand as she worried. Looked like Marinette was out of commission for now. “Yep. That’s us.”

The student beamed. “Oh, hey! Cool! It’s nice to finally meet you. I couldn’t tell who you guys were since the backstage is always so dark and I have terrible eyes. You’re Adrien, right? I’ve only ever caught sight of Marinette when she’d show up to get Nathaniel to do something or the other, so I never knew who her Vice was. My name’s Marc.”

Adrien relaxed his shoulders. That meant no one could see Adrien desperately trying to keep his brain from blue-screening at the slightest  _ hand holding.  _ “Hey, Marc. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Marc was taller than Marinette by a good head, but not much more than that. They weren’t as tall as Adrien, either, coming in at about the same height as Nathaniel. He’d seen Marc before in the hallways in passing, always laughing whenever Marinette was going by and Nathaniel hid behind trashcans when she came looking for him. Nathaniel seemed to be terrified of her, but it seemed to be more joking than actually serious. He wish he knew the history behind those two.

Marc’s eyebrows pinched when they looked over Adrien’s shoulders to look at Marinette, pulling at their sweater to look like they were  _ drowning _ in the red fabric. “Hey, Marinette. You okay?”

“Hm?” She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the student on the stage, but after a bigger squeeze of Adrien’s hands to the point where he heard a finger crack, Marinette snapped her head towards Marc. “Oh. Oh! Marc! How long have you been there for?”

Marc laughed. “I just got here. Everything okay?”

Marinette smiled. “Oh, yeah. Everything’s fine.”

“You look a little stressed out.”

“No, no. I’m totally fine.” She waved her empty hand, smiling kindly to Adrien, before looking back to Marc. “Just wondering what the order of the presentations will be.”

“I think I have the list on my phone,” Marc patted their jeans for it, pulling out the list quickly with their fingers. “I think this is the updated list. We all drew names from a hat, so, I hope this is it. Cape Town is going first, and then Rio, and then New York.”

“Are you Rio?” Adrien didn’t know.

Marc smiled with no malice, pocketing his phone after sending a text filled with hearts. “Nah, I’m Cape Town.”

“I wish you the best of luck, out there.” Marinette sighed, going back to biting at her thumb, staring out at the stage. “It sounds like Alix is out for blood, right now.”

Marc grinned. “She doesn’t scare me.”

Marinette’s laughter twinkled in the backstage area. “That’s a good thing! I think she’s just excited for our trip tomorrow for our video project. We’re going to film her in a shark tank, and I don’t think she’s been getting any sleep because she’s so excited about it.”

“Nathaniel told me about that. How’d you get the class to agree to that one? I know that Alix didn’t need much convincing at all, but what about everyone else? Nath had hoped that it would be something about basketball, or something that could be done inside the school. And you know how Nath is.”

“Anything to get out of actually pulling his weight around,” Marinette joked with a small laugh, sharing a private smile with Marc. She lifted their conjoined hands, showing Marc that she was holding Adrien’s hand. “Nah. In actuality, it was Adrien that was the one who came up with the idea.”

“Really?” Marc’s eyes widened, shoulders lifting in surprise, but Adrien could tell they were much more interested in Adrien’s hand being laced together with Marinette’s. “Huh. No way! So it was you? No wonder Nath didn’t immediately say no.”

Adrien blushed at Marc’s sly smile. “I-I had been thinking about sharks the entire week. So it kind of jumped out at me.”

“Like ‘Jaws’.” Marinette nodded along.

“Something like that.” Sort of. Close, but not really.

“Your class is definitely going to get a better score than the rest of it, I’m sure.” Marc laughed, winking at Adrien. “Oh, hey, look who finally decides to show up!”

The three of them turned to look at three other students, none of which Adrien recognized by name. He’d seen them all before, having gone to Vice meetings himself to the Principal who wanted to make sure everyone had their paperwork submitted for the field trips. He’d seen the Vices of the Rio team and the Cape Town team, but had never gotten their names. The third one he’d never seen at all.

All three students in front of him laughed sheepishly, as if they’d gotten into trouble before coming here. 

It was difficult to tell their appearances in the dark, but Adrien could tell instantly that the shortest of the three was wearing knee high platforms with her pencil skirt. He’d been on the runway long enough to recognize a heeled shoe, even in the dark. She was the Cape Town vice, Adrien assumed, but he wasn’t really certain. Was her name Lynn? Maddie?

Adrien turned to the tallest of the trio. The second was wearing squared glasses that looked wider than his head, trying to unbutton his shirt to let himself breathe better. He was barely taller than the girl wearing the platform shoes, and he leaned into her as he gasped for breath, much to her dismay. If Adrien had to guess, he was the Rio vice. Something tickled at the back of his head for a name, coming up with Simon.

The third one gasped for air, straightening her printed sweater, wiping at her curly afro for flyaways. Adrien had never met her before.

The girl in the platform shoes spoke first. “Sorry, sorry. We--  _ oh god, my feet-- _ had to stop Simon from attacking the vending machine, and we didn’t even realize it was almost time to go on stage.”

Aha! He was right!

“It took my money. I don’t have any chips.” The boy with the glasses spoke, still wheezing into Maddie/Lynn’s shoulder. “I’m-- ahhh, can’t breathe-- I’m starving.”

“Oh, I’m glad you said something now!” Marinette finally--  _ finally-- _ pulled her hand out of his. His hand felt cold. Marc raised a brow at him as he wiped his hand clean on his jeans, trying to pull off that he was just straightening out his sweater vest and tie. “I brought a couple of things from the bakery for you all. I know we can’t see very well, but I promise none of them have peanuts. I made sure for you, Sophie.”

The girl in the sweater and skirt straightened from her frantic adjustment of her creases in her shirt.. “No way. Really?”

Marinette nodded. “It’s on the king’s chair from the play production crew, where my purse is. Let me go get it for you?”

“Nah, it’s cool, Marinette, I got it. It’s hard to miss that gigantic throne.” Simon shrugged his shoulders easily, flashing a brilliant smile. “Thanks so much for this, Marinette. You’re a life saver.”

Marinette hesitated. “Ah-- okay. No problem!”

Adrien had seen the stage crew work on the throne. It was massive, almost comically large, made out of recycled cardboard to make up for the lack of actual metal. It was lightweight to move around during the play, or at least, Adrien  _ hoped  _ he was right-- he’d seen Rose carry it by herself across the stage when she’d been practicing her lines with the drama club. 

It had a stool in the center of the chair to give the actor an actual place to sit on, leaving pockets of fabric hanging to make it look fuller than what it actually was. It was covered in glitter, and comedically marked and branded whoever sat on the chair for the rest of the day with gold and red over their butt.

“I just wanted everyone to have something to eat.” Marinette shrugged, but giggled anyway behind a hand. “I want everyone to have a fighting chance for their city they want to go to, but you can’t do that on an empty stomach, right?”

“You’re always thinking of others, Marinette.” Marc patted the back of their hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “You should own up to that.”

“Seriously, Marinette.” The girl in the platform shoes-- he was really betting on the name Maddie-- cocked her hips. “We hadn’t even asked you to do this but you did it anyway.”

Marinette blushed. “It’s not a big deal.”

Behind the curtain, Simon yelped. “What the hell-- is that a  _ rat?” _

Marinette froze. “A-- a rat?”

Sophie squeaked. “A  _ rat?” _

Maddie hushed her. “Shh, Sophie, keep it down-- the audience might be able to hear us!”

Adrien parted the curtain, leaving the group behind to find Simon on the floor, staring hard at the white box with his phone’s flashlight mode shaking in his hand. Adrien frowned. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I-I swear, I saw it.” Simon shivered, taking Adrien’s hand to pull him up. “It had teeth. I saw the-- the  _ teeth. _ And whiskers.”

Adrien took out his phone, turning on his own flashlight, searching the various drama club props that couldn’t fit into boxes for any scuttle or movement. He was met with empty silence. “Are you sure?”

“Hey, man, it was black-- a black little rat-- I saw him on top of the box-- I  _ did--” _

Marinette came through the curtain, shuffling on her kitten heels, hands over her chest in fear. “Are you okay, Simon?”

“Yeah-- yeah I’m okay. Didn’t expect to see a rat, but.”

“M-maybe it was a hamster?” Marinette cringed at her own words.

Simon groaned. “Hamsters don’t have green eyes. I’m telling you, I saw a  _ rat.” _

Marinette bit her lip, searching the prop boxes with a wary glance, keeping her hands close to her chest, over her heart.

“Well, whatever it was, I hope he didn’t get into the food.” Adrien pulled the lid back of the box, bracing himself to see emptiness. Instead, the wax paper bags looked perfectly intact, the seal on the bags still shut. “Doesn’t look like he did.”

He turned to the three remaining officers coming through the curtain, who looked at the sight of the food. Marc whistled. “Oh, damn. That looks delicious.”

“It’ll be fine to eat, right, Maddie?” Sophie quivered.

The girl in the platform shoes nodded. “As long as it doesn’t have peanuts in it, I think you’ll be fine.”

Adrien pulled out a cookie for Tikki before the girls grabbed onto all of the food, giving Marinette a shy smile. “Thanks for this, Marinette.”

Her own smile struggled to stay still on her face. “Y-yeah. No problem! I should probably go to the bathroom before we go on stage, I’ve been drinking too much water.”

* * *

Every single movement he tried his body to not make, his chair amplified on the stage. He tried not to cringe at the squeaky seat, instead focusing on the projector behind him, watching the numbers count in on real time. It was just  _ his _ luck to get the squeaky chair, wasn’t it?

Marinette was squeezing his hand again.

This time, he was squeezing back.

She worried her tongue between her teeth, face contorted into perfect concentration as they watched the numbers fill up the chart. Everyone in the auditorium had enough service, hopefully, and all five hundred and twenty two people that had signed onto the app were currently voting. If they could just get two hundred votes, there would be an absolute guarantee of a win…

Marinette was crushing his hand.

“Do you think we’ll win?” Marinette whispered to him, her pinned-back hair falling over her shoulder in a perfect black sheet. It was a cute hairdo on her, one that he’d never seen, and suddenly hoped for it to show up again. 

She was wearing a giant butterfly hair clamp at the back of her head to keep her hair from falling onto her face, and it sparkled under the stage lights into a scattering of rainbows on the projector screen as she moved her head. Everytime she blinked, long strands of her bangs would catch on her long eyelashes, and he wanted nothing more than to reach over to her and brush it off her face like he would if she was Noire.

Adrien tried not to flinch as his chair squeaked again, making eye contact with Marc on the other side of the stage and giving them a sheepish smile. “I hope so.”

“We did great,” Marinette tacked on as Rio’s bar on the graph surged up as the screen refreshed. Sophie sucked in a breath in anticipation.  _ “You _ did great. I couldn’t have asked for a better vice president.”

“You did most of the talking.” He smiled.

“Maybe. But you being there was the reason why I could do it.” She toyed with the lapel of her blazer. It was about the same color of her pastel green nail polish, made soft with her silver rings she fiddled with, along with her silver bracelets he hadn’t seen her without just yet. “I have massive stage fright.”

His eyes widened, making sure to keep his voice low. “Really?”

She ducked her head instead of nodding, sending the rainbow scatters up to the ceiling. “Yeah. The only reason why I was able to go on stage today was because of you.”

The graph updated again, showing New York’s graph jumping to match up with Rio’s. They both sucked a breath in.

He turned back to her, keeping his voice soft. Marinette kept squeezing his hand like she was trying to kill him. “You should’ve told me about the stage fright, Marinette, we wouldn’t have--”

Marinette shook her head hard enough to make him stop talking. “It’s okay, really. I wanted to. I wanted to give it a try. Our class deserved us to try our best. They really wanted to go to New York, how could I say no to them?”

He sat back in his chair, flinching again at the squeaks. Marinette bounced her knee as they broke off in the uncomfortable, baited silence, going back to biting her tongue between her teeth, fiddling with the silver ring on her right middle finger with her thumb.

Maddie and Marc were currently enraptured with something on Marc’s phone, checking and nodding to each other quietly across the stage. Simon had his head in his hands, refusing to look at the screen. Was he… praying? Adrien couldn’t tell without moving over to the side to look over Marinette’s hair, and he really didn’t want to squeak his chair any more than he had to.

The graph refreshed. Rio shot back up. Marinette wouldn’t stop squeezing his hand.

He sighed into his seat. “You want to get something to eat, after this? I haven’t eaten dinner.”

Marinette sighed. “Did you Nino forget to invite you to his house?”

“What?”

They ducked their heads when they realized they were getting loud. She looked at him sheepishly. “Nino wants us to go to his house after this. Did he forget to tell you?”

“Oh. I don’t remember. Maybe I just forgot?”

“No, I think  _ he _ just forgot to invite you.” Marinette picked lint off her pants, wiggling her beige kitten heels in front of her. Her feet clicked on the stage audibly when she adjusted her seating position, never letting go of his hand. “Nino kind of forgets that we don’t live in his head, sometimes, so I’ll invite you for him. I want you to be there. Come with?”

Adrien smiled. “Yeah. I’d love to go.”

“Well, I’m glad, because I would’ve dragged you there with or without you wanting to.” Marinette giggled. “Regardless of who wins and loses, I want to hang out with you for a little while longer. Sounds like a deal, oh Mister Vice?”

“Deal.”

“Great,” She exhaled.

His chair squeaked again.

“This chair is driving me crazy.” He confessed. “I guess I just have bad luck with these types of things.”

“Why don’t you get the one that’s over there?” Marinette pointed to the one off stage, just so in the shadows.

“Think anyone will notice me getting up?”

“Everyone’s too focused on the screen. I can see Principal Damocles’s eyes looking as big as an owl’s, over here. You’ll be fine.” Marinette finally noticed their hands conjoined, because she dropped it almost immediately, smiling at him almost bashfully.

He slipped off his chair with as little noise as possible, and entered through the parted curtains to pull out the chair.

It was darker-- so much darker-- off stage than on. The stage lights were bright enough to cook eggs under, and sweating under those lights were no joke-- he couldn’t see two inches in front of him without some serious guiding.

He moved his foot over the cloth of the pulled back curtain, winced when his shoes made contact with the thick rope that held the banner back. He cursed to himself as he tried fanning in some new air onto his body, pulling at his collar of his dress shirt to unstick from his neck. The air circulated with a stale taste at the back of the stage, and it felt like he was walking through dust.

Had it always been that bad when he was back here before with Marinette? Or was it just the nervousness and anxiousness that was chewing through him and making him jumpy and uncomfortable with everything? He thumbed at his miraculous for comfort, wondering if Tikki was enjoying her free range of the backstage like he’d let her go do. He hoped she hadn’t got into a fight with any of the rats that apparently lived backstage.

He stumbled through what felt like much more than a simple walk to get the chair that now was almost invisible to find in the dark.

Did rats really have green eyes? He’d never met one. The school was clean, and not usually so disorganized, so it pained him to think that there were mutant rats popping up in the backstages of the auditorium of his school. It wasn’t like the school to have sewage everywhere. Maybe it was because of the lack of light the backstage got that it was so dusty, and impossible to see through, and perfect for rats.

He turned on his camera’s flightlight setting to see better.

He yelped when he felt something whizz by his head.

He ducked almost instantly, nearly dropping his phone out of his hands, listening for any scuttering. Oh god. Bugs. There was already one too many in his life, thanks, universe-- he didn’t need another one. He chewed hard on the side of his cheek as he scanned the area for the buzzing noise, thumbing against his miraculous again to keep calm. Would it be weird if he used the miraculous as a way to get away from a bug? Would that be considered misuse of a miraculous? He  _ hated _ bugs.

The light of his phone landed on Plagg on the chair.

_ “Plagg?” _ Adrien hissed, almost dropping his phone again.

“Hey, keep it down! Are you trying to tell everyone I’m here? You’re yelping and everything!” Plagg hissed back, floating up to him.

Adrien’s eyes widened. He hoped no one had heard him, and he glanced behind to see if Marinette had heard him, back on the stage. Her eyes scanned the projector screen warily, going back to biting the fleshy part of her thumb, her right leg bouncing away under her chair. She switched between looking down at her hand, twirling the rings on her fingers, to back up looking at the board, casting rainbows in every which way direction that made her hair glossy and shiny.

No, it didn’t look like she’d heard him almost scream. 

“Okay, I’m sorry-- I’m sorry. Plagg, why  _ are _ you here?”

He looked embarrassed, at least. Wait. Wait wait wait. What the hell was Noire’s kwami doing here? Seriously, what was he  _ doing _ here? Plagg’s hands drooped in front of him, his small back bending as he sighed too loudly with his tiny body. “I’m  _ bored. _ I’m tired of hiding in her purse, and there’s so much to explore backstage.”

“What if you got caught?” 

“Nah. I don’t get caught. Besides, I found some really cool hats in the back, and I was going to try to find Tikki so that we could try them on together in the backstage mirror. I’ve been looking for her for the past three hours or whatever, but I got distracted by some really good food left behind.”

“What the-- you’ve been here for three hours already? What? Noire-- Noire is actually here?” What?  _ What?  _ What what what? Three hours? This wasn’t just a ‘happy coincidence’-- Noire’s been in the area for the past  _ three hours.  _ Noire’s been in the area.

For three hours.

Noire was here.

Noire was unmasked and in the area.

He didn’t know how to feel about it.

Plagg groaned. “Oh, boy. Not this again.”

“Plagg.” He frowned at the kwami.

“You’re not going to call me a rat too, are you?”

“Were-- hold on.” Adrien sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in concentration. Months of dealing with Noire’s hyperactivity led up to this moment-- maybe Noire and Plagg were way too much in common that they fed off of each other’s tendencies to never complete a conversation. “Okay, first, were  _ you _ the rat that scared Simon?”

Plagg sniffed indignantly. “I’m not a  _ rat. _ I was minding my own business, I’ll have you know. Just looking at all the food available, since they were wrapped so tightly in those bags I couldn’t smell them, so I was just taking a peek.”

“Plagg--”

“A peek! I swear. I wasn’t going to take any of them, since none of them were cheese related. I was just interested, that’s all. Then a skinny guy with giant glasses comes up and starts screaming when he made eye contact with me. Rude.”

Well, that made sense. He’d wondered why he’d never heard of a rat with green eyes.

“Where did you hide? I was looking for whatever it was that scared him.”

Someone on stage screamed. Plagg sighed tiredly. “Well, I guess it’s time to go find my holder. The one day that I try to go out an explore after years of being a good cat and of  _ course _ there’s an akuma. Say hello to Tikki for me when you find her, yadda yadda, and tell her that there’s some really cool hats backstage. It’s a shame I couldn’t find her myself, but, duty calls.”

Plagg zipped away as Adrien opened his mouth to respond.

Adrien looked back onto the stage towards his chair next to Marinette’s, eyes widening in surprise when he found the two chairs empty. He scanned the rest of the stage for Marinette, looking for her, worried that she somehow had become the one akumatized, but sagged a breath of relief when he caught the tail end of her rainbow light casting headpiece glinting on the other side of the backstage.

The only one left on stage was Simon, screaming into his hands as the akuma took over him.

He searched the backstage curtains for his kwami, whispering out Tikki’s name, thumbing at his miraculous in hopes that he’d find her in time before Simon started to corrupt too many people with whatever akuma he would become.

* * *

Noire went to his school.

Right?

There was no other way.

Noire  _ went to his school. _

_ Lady Noire. _

His best friend.

Adrien stared dumbly at his soda can, collecting condensation on his fingers as he zoned out while the music around him was loud and cheering. Nino had remembered to invite him, finally, after the scores had been counted and confirmed, when Marinette had squeezed his hands to the point of cracking all his knuckles.

Adrien still couldn’t quite feel his hands. 

Noire went to his school.

He didn’t know how to feel-- yes, it was strange knowing that she could be someone he knew… but… but…

He didn’t feel weird. He didn’t feel weird at all.

In fact, he could cry happy.

His best friend was someone much much closer to him than he’d realized.

Had Noire watched him on the stage? Had Noire snickered behind her hand when he went on stage to give his part of the presentation, or when his hands had sweatily swiped at his tablet? Had she wondered and hoped that he would win?

He wished he could’ve spun her around the way he had with Marinette when the audience had cheered at the score count. He wished he could’ve smiled and laughed with her excitedly when the principal went onto the stage to congratulate the class with the microphone. He wished, he wished, he wished.

Did she cheer as they won? Did she laugh and cry and squeeze her friend’s hands in happiness as New York got their needed two hundred votes in order to succeed a win? Would they be going on the same field trip together? 

Or was she just passing by to wish him good luck? It wasn’t as if he’d kept his highschool a secret from her. She knew where he went to school-- she’d seen his textbooks on his desk while he studied and she poked and prodded at every little inch of his room while she looked for something to organize. 

Maybe she’d slipped into the auditorium to wish him good luck, and had let Plagg explore while she watched the counters go up. He hadn’t seen anyone new slip in through the auditorium doors, or anyone sitting by themself, but being on the stage made it almost impossible to see out into the audience past the first four rows.

Or maybe… maybe she really did go to his school.

Maybe Noire did go to the same school as him, and had voted, and had been excited and happy when he’d won, and had let Plagg go exploring on his own while she waited in her chair and bounced her legs because she couldn’t sit still and-- and-- and--

They would be going on a field trip together.

Could he convince her to tell him who she voted for?

Did she want to sit next to him? Was she happy, in her class? Had she ever approached him in civilian attire and he had never realized? Did she know him personally? 

Would she be excited to be with him on a fieldtrip? Could he convince her to hang out with him in New York?

“Hey, dude. You okay?” Kim patted him on the shoulder.

Adrien blinked dumbly, a mix of happiness and anxiety building in his chest. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Seriously, is everything okay with you?” Nino frowned. “Is it because I forgot to invite you?”

“No,” His laughter sounded almost too genuine, even to his own ears. “No, no, I’m fine. I’m just tired. Happy tired. Like I just ran a race.”

“You and Marinette did have a busy day today.” Kim quirked his smile, raising his brows up and down. “I bet you guys did  _ lots  _ of stuff.”

Adrien didn’t have the energy to blush, smile giddy and warm on his face. “I think I might have a headache, too. I don’t know yet.”

“Music too loud?”

“Hmm. Maybe.” Had he ever been mean to Noire without realizing? Maybe just chalked her up to another fan asking for his autograph, and accidentally cut her off when she was trying to tell him that she was his best friend? He frequently got asked for autographs at school, when classmates couldn’t hold back their excitement and finally caved in to asking. Could she have been one of them? Had he been a snob to her?

Nino frowned. “Want something for the headache, man?”

“I don’t know.” His hand was freezing when he scratched at his jaw, and Adrien blinked at the wetness of his fingers. Oh. The can of soda. Right. “I’m kind of feeling a little bit out of my own skin, right now.”

Kim blanched. “Did you drink something you weren’t supposed to?”

“--No, I don’t think so--”

“--I mean, it’s not like any of us would have any type of hard drugs here at Nino’s house--”

“--Nah man this party is entirely clean.” Nino frowned at the wistful smile on Adrien’s face. “But you definitely look out of it.”

“Runner’s high?” Adrien tacked on lamely.

“Hey, man, come on. You deserve this break.” Kim tried getting Adrien out of the chair. At Adrien’s silence, drifting off into thoughts, Kim sighed into the hand pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, Marinette’s dancing in the living room right now in  _ celebration.  _ Because you two  _ won. _ We’re  _ going to New York City _ because of you two. You should  _ join her.” _

Oh.

Oh oh oh.

Was Noire here, at Nino’s house? 

Could she be here?

There were about eighty people in the apartment alone, with Alix threatening everyone to call all of her other friends from school into the house if the party continued to be as fun and full of energy as it was. 

Was she here? Was she dancing? Was she enjoying herself? Was she having fun? Did she have any friends dancing with her? Adrien was probably the only one at the party who was cosplaying as a potted plant. 

He’d even seen  _ Nathaniel _ dancing, which was a first. He was dancing with Marc, because the two of them did almost everything together. They both looked like they were having fun. 

Everytime him and Marinette made eye contact, he’d scitter off like a frightened cub, and Marinette would chase him across the apartment, and Marc would just laugh instead of trying to put an end to the shenanigans-- but it was a lot better than whatever wistful sighing Adrien was doing on the balcony chair.

He was just trying to make himself available for whatever person approached him. Maybe Noire wanted to talk to him and congratulate him on the win. A few people already had-- no one with braided black hair, no one with green eyes, but they’d come out to the long balcony for a brief moment to get the noise out of their head and recognize him. They’d congratulate him, ask him if he was excited and happy. 

He couldn’t keep his knee still underneath his chair, officially given up on keeping his blazer on his body because it was too hot. He’d unbutton a two buttons off his dress shirt, letting more air reach his body, still steaming from the stage lights two hours prior. Even in the brisk early-Parisian night, his body still felt too stuffy.

He wasn’t the only one.

Simon, Sophie, Marc and Maddie had all stripped down from their formal wear as much as possible the moment they’d gotten to Nino’s house, with Simon unabashedly apologetic for his actions during the akuma attack. Maddie’s creepers shoes fell like bricks up against the entranceway of Nino’s door, one of the few people to have willingly dropped their shoes. 

Even Marinette had changed out of her clothes as best she could. He’d seen Marinette shuck off her blazer the moment they’d stepped foot into Nino’s house along with toeing off her heels. The silk shirt underneath was just a smidge paler than her skin, almost opal in color but shinier, giving her such a soft angel effect as it created soft ripples of rainbows on her clavicle.

No, he thought dimly. She looked like a purified butterfly akuma after Mister Bug had captured it. She looked happy.

He was happy, too. He was so happy he could cry.

They’d gotten to Nino’s house before the party had started, and had helped Nino set up the giant speakers they had to haul out of his closet. Marinette had run over her foot on complete accident with the squeaky back wheel of the subwoofer, and had cursed the entire time for not wearing appropriate shoes.

He didn’t remember anything after that. Suddenly he was here, looking out to the Paris night-time on Nino’s eighth floor, bass and synths rocking into him as he nursed a cold can of soda, wondering and wishing about Noire.

“I don’t know about the dancing thing, Kim. He doesn’t look like he’s feeling up to it.” Nino frowned in Adrien’s direction.

“But-- come on-- this is like the movie’s climax.” Kim looked back inside the apartment, distraught. “She’s right there, man. You can-- you can _just--_ _ahh, dude--_ it’s like the universe is telling you to kiss her right now.”

Adrien stood up from his chair, wincing as it grinded against the concrete floor. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Kim frowned. “Come on, don’t give us that. You should really dance.”

“Who’s here right now, Nino?” Adrien looked into the living room, ignoring the way Kim groaned as he got ignored. “Are there people you don’t know?”

Nino shrugged. “I can’t exactly say I’m the most popular person in school, but I do recognize everyone here. Even so-- probably. Alix invited almost everyone she knew from school, and I haven’t been the one to keep opening the door every time someone knocks.”

“Marinette invited everyone she knew, too, from student government.” Kim gestured again. “You know.  _ Marinette. _ The girl you  _ like. _ She looks like she needs a dancing partner. A  _ dude, _ maybe.”

“Is there anyone here with a braid and green eyes?” Adrien almost managed to bite back a smile when Kim groaned again.

“No, I don’t think so. But I mean there’s so many people in here, so...”

Adrien pouted. “Do you have any cheese in this house?”

Nino and Kim blinked dumbly at him.

“Huh?”

“What?”

“Sorry. That was a weird question, wasn’t it?” Adrien blushed. But it was possible that she was here, maybe. Maybe he could lure out Plagg with whatever cheese was in Nino’s fridge. Maybe Plagg was already in the fridge. Maybe he should go check. He wanted to know if Noire was here and enjoying herself.

“What’s going on, man? Did you invite someone new, or something?”

Adrien’s eyes widened. Maybe Noire’s identity might get solved if he said anything about it-- he didn’t want that to happen. “No, no.”

“I sure hope not. Marinette, again, is  _ right there--” _

Nino laughed. “Quit it, Kim, you’re not going to win whatever bet you have with Alix.”

Kim sputtered. “I don’t-- I don’t have a  _ bet. _ I’m-- I’m just emotionally invested in this--”

“Yeah right! I saw the bet you two made--”

Kim rolled his eyes. “--Don’t you have some noise complaints to deal with, Nino?”

“I paid fat stacks to all my neighbors yesterday to not complain, because unlike you,  _ I _ actually know when to use my money correctly--”

“I’m going to go into the kitchen.” Adrien laughed under his breath, leaving the two playfully bickering with each other. His eyes scanned the living room crammed with people, weaving slowly through the crowd as they danced and shouted to the music. It was so much louder inside. Who knew that even an open glass sliding door was enough to muffle some of the sound coming from inside? 

Was there anyone here with a braid? Was there anyone here with green eyes?

Was Noire here? He couldn’t contain his excitement, soft laughter escaping and disappearing underneath the hard rock of the bass in his lungs.

He shouldered into Alya and Marinette. “Oh. Hey!”

“Hey!” Marinette shouted over the music, giggling and smiling with Alya as they weaved their arms together, clinking their cans. 

“Hey, you!” Alya flicked his shoulder.

Marinette’s eyes glittered under the ceiling light. “You okay?”

“Yeah! I’m totally fine.” He could  _ fly. _ He nodded exaggeratedly, trying to convey his words across in case she couldn’t hear him over the song. “I’m going into the kitchen. You two want anything?”

Marinette mouthed something.

Adrien winced. “What?”

She laughed under the sound of the bass, pulling on his collar to get him to lean down over her so that she could whisper in his ear. Adrien’s pulse skyrocketed as she giggled close enough for him to only hear her. “I said, could you get us two more sodas?”

“Sure!” He smiled wide, hoping that his face wasn’t staining red as she pulled away with sparkling eyes. “I’ll be back soon.”

It was a hassle going through the crowd of people, shouldering his way through bodies while they danced. It was easier for him because of his height, but not by much. Weaving through dancing teenagers was difficult when he was still scanning the crowd, looking over the couches to see if anyone who was currently making out in pairs was actually his best friend. No black braids in sight. No Cheshire grins. Hm.

He made it into the kitchen, taking far too long to make it through. There was nobody inside of it except him just yet, large coolers lined on the floor up against the cabinets, filled with ice and drinks. Nino had catered food from somewhere, too, and it was on the dining table outside the kitchen. He’d really gone all out for the occasion, even if they would’ve lost, and Adrien’s heart warmed at the idea of Nino getting excited for a party.

Anything was a reason to celebrate for Nino. Celebrating a new best friend’s birthday for their first time ever, even if it cost him to be an akuma. Celebrating a new girlfriend after being stuck in a zoo cage with his girlfriend. Celebrating Marinette’s birthday when his best friend was too chicken to do or make anything lest she find out that he had a crush on her.

Kim’s swim competition getting a post-game celebration.

Alix’s roller derby competition getting a post-game celebration.

Adrien’s fencing match getting a post-game celebration.

Post Mecha Strike tournament getting a post-game celebration.

Adrien’s eyes widened as he realized the amount of parties thrown at Nino’s house. He wondered if Nino had enough money to keep paying his neighbors to not complain. Maybe even the neighbors were invited, so that way Nino definitely couldn’t get into trouble.

He shuffled the coolers over to the side to gain access into the fridge, grateful for the muscles he’d gained from his daily life to be able to pick up the handles. He wasn’t sure just how many drinks were piled in them, but judging by the strain and the instant soreness in his arms, he’d say that the coolers were well above stocked for the amount of party goers in the apartment.

With a cleansing breath to slow down his heart rate, he opened the fridge, coming face to face with Plagg as he snacked on the selection of cheese food on a tray.

“Uh oh.”

“Aha!” Adrien chuckled. “So you  _ are _ here.”

“Ugh, Princess is going to kill me.” Plagg hid behind a milk carton. “Seeing you twice in a row. Did Tikki tell you anything?”

“No. I just figured you’d be where the cheese is. Have you told her about us seeing each other?”

“I haven’t exactly gotten the time to,” He mumbled. “She’s been busy this entire time.”

Adrien hummed. “Did you find Tikki yet?”

Plagg sighed. “We’ve been hanging out in the cupboards for the entire time. I came in here for a quick bite. Got anything sugary on you?”

“There might be something out in the living room.” Adrien pet Plagg on the jaw with his fingertip, smiling at the little purrs. “I’ll make sure to put some in my bag just for her. It might look weird if I put a cookie or a chocolate bar randomly in a cabinet, right?”

“Probably.”

“So, why are you here?”

“Because Princess is here?” Plagg winced at himself when he realized his predicament. “Well, I mean, she’s  _ maybe _ here.”

“Maybe? Or not maybe?”

Plagg went small. “I can’t tell you that, you know I can’t. You know, I hate this part of the superhero cycle. This part always leads to drama.”

Adrien sighed, setting his mouth into a frown. “Yeah, that would probably be bad, wouldn’t it? I don’t want to start anything on accident.”

Plagg scowled. “Then quit looking for me on purpose!”

Still though, he couldn’t stop the giddiness in his chest. So, Noire was here. Noire was in the apartment-- somewhere, maybe, close enough for him to reach and touch and hug. Had she tried coming up to him already? He hadn’t seen anyone with sparkling green eyes, or catlike smiles. Certainly no one chatting him up and dropping casual puns.

“Hey, you know, I don’t think you’re supposed to be eating the cheese in there.” Adrien laughed.

“Don’t try to push the responsibility of being caught onto  _ me.  _ You’re the one who purposely opened the fridge! Besides, that’s what she gets for dragging me to this loud party!” Plagg sniffed. “I’m not good with crowds. I’m just trying to lay low so that I don’t ruin her big night. One wrong move and I’ll set off my cataclysm on complete accident.”

He’d heard this tale from Noire before. “Like what happened with Atlantis?”

The kwami pouted. “Don’t be mean. It was an  _ accident.” _

Adrien’s laughter bubbled out of him.

“What are you doing?”

Adrien snapped the fridge shut with a horrible squeak, whirring around to face the entrance. Marinette stared at him quizzically, glancing at the fridge then back again at him, pure confusion on her face.

He blinked slowly. “Marinette. Hey! Hey. Shoot, I totally forgot about your soda, I’m sorry.”

“Are you-- is everything okay?” She frowned small, puckering her lips into the cutest frown he’d ever seen. “Nino just told me that you’re acting weird and-- well-- I wanted to check up on you and--”

“--You found me talking to the vegetables in the fridge.” He winced. Great. He totally came off as a total  _ loser.  _ He wished he could hit his forehead into the side of the fridge in embarrassment.

Her laughter came easy, her face jovial and soft as she squinted her eyes, completely unaware that he wanted to melt into the floor. “Essentially, yeah. Is everything okay with you, Adrien?”

He sputtered. “Yeah-- oh, yeah. Everything’s great!”

“Are you having a breakdown?” She bit her tongue. “I don’t mean to put words in your mouth, sorry. I mean, I know  _ I _ don’t talk to vegetables when I’m having a breakdown, but I do talk to myself a lot in general, so I’m just assuming that something’s totally up. Am I right? Is something happening? Are you okay?”

“Yep. Oh no yeah I’m-- it’s--  _ super _ fine.” His voice cracked when she stepped closer on her bare feet, placing her hand on the counter for support as she reached up onto her toes to touch his forehead. Warm. Warm warm warm.

He suspected his face was hotter than her hand, his toes curling into his shoes from how embarrassed he was.

“Did anyone come up to you and slip you something?” Her hand was warm and comforting against his skin, looking at him so quizzically it hurt. “Oh god. I would hope not, no one here is that type of person, I hope, but you never know. Sorry, sorry. I’m probably getting worried for nothing. I get over worried really easily, it’s in my nature! I’m sure you’re totally fine. You’ve only had that can with you, right?”

Adrien nodded dumbly. “Yeah. It’s the only thing I’ve had all night.”

“And, I mean, you  _ are _ an attractive guy. Someone could’ve been trying to take advantage of you, and-- oh god, now I’m really worrying. Stay with me so I can keep an eye on you? Hm. Actually, I’ve never had experience with any of that, so maybe I’m just scared. Maybe you’re just drunk?”

“A-am I?”

“Hm?” She cocked her head. “Are you what? Drunk?”

He blushed. “No. A-attractive.”

Her eyes swirled with humor, biting her tongue. “Well, uhm, yeah. Isn’t it kind of your job to be one? Being a supermodel, and all that?”

“You think-- I’m attractive?” He couldn’t breathe.

She frowned as she pushed his bangs back. Was he sweating? Gross. “You’re feeling a little too warm. Are you sure you didn’t drink anything? No alcohol at all? Did you take any of Alix’s shots? Don’t take those. I beg you. You won’t wake up tomorrow, even Ivan can’t handle it. I’ve seen Luka drop after three shots of them, they’re impossible. Alcohol percentage off the roof-- and, well-- I-- I need you.”

“No, no, I’m  _ great--”  _ Adrien mumbled, trying not to blush at their contact. “No alcohol, I’m not really into it. And yeah, I stay way clear of anything that Alix makes, I’m not out for a death certificate anytime soon. I’m just having the time of my life right now. But other than that I’m totally fine, I promise.”

“Totally fine while talking to vegetables?”

Adrien paused, letting the bass of the speakers in the living room pound in their ears. She looked at him expectantly, taking in his appearance with slow sweeps of her eyes, chewing on her bottom lip. Adrien winced. “Okay. I may be going through a bit right now.”

“Was it the stage fright?”

He couldn’t really say that his best friend that he’d never really actually truly met was somehow somewhere in Nino’s apartment, now could he? “Ah. I don’t think so.”

“Just stress from overworking?”

“A-among other things.” He laughed, curling inwards into the counter, feeling shy and weak.

“I’m sorry. That must’ve been my fault.”

“You’re never at fault, Marinette. I promise. You’re too perfect for that.” He let laughter bubble out of him nervously, trying to bite down on his cheek. What was going on with him? “Sorry. I mean, I’m not sorry for calling you perfect, because you are, but I’m sorry for hitting on you while I’m going through this.”

“Adrien, seriously.” She giggled, smile wide, catching onto his infectious laugh. “What’s going on with you? I’ve never seen you so carefree before, talking so openly before. It’s freaking me out.”

“I’m just having a good time.” He shrugged, easy, hopeful that maybe he’d see Noire appear out of the corner of the kitchen entrance. Maybe she was shy when she was out of her suit. Had she tried approaching him already? What was her real name?

“Hm. Okay.” Marinette pouted again. She opened one of the coolers, searching through the many bottles of beer for a new soda can, flicking an icecube away from her fingers when it stuck to her nail. “I hope you’re not sick, Mister Vice, you’re very important to me. I’m going to need you to be in top shape for tomorrow.”

He watched her open the can without tapping on the top of the opening first, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t dream of getting sick, don’t worry. Hey, you gotta open the cans correctly.”

“What?”

“You have to tap the top of the can before opening it,” He mimicked the action with his fingers, “If someone had shaken up the can it might’ve spilled all over your pretty clothes.”

“I never knew you were so pompous about your can opening.”

“It’s something I’m good at.” He floundered. “Opening cans. Talking to vegetables. You know how it is.”

Boy, didn’t the edge of the fridge look ready to hit him in the forehead dead on.

She glanced over her shoulder, back to the entrance of the kitchen, thin shoulders shaking hard under the opal shirt. “If I leave you here really quick to tell Alya that you and I are going to go take a walk to clear your head, will you go back to talking to the fridge?”

Yes. “No. Of course not. I’m fine, really--  _ really-- _ you don’t have to worry. No need for walks.”

He hoped that Plagg was still in there.

She faltered, lost in thought. “Actually, why don’t you come with me? I don’t want anyone coming in here and doing something.”

“Actually, why don’t you follow me? I have something for you. I totally forgot about it until now. Let’s go get my bag in Nino’s room.”

He weaved through a couple of people on newborn-deer legs. The music had changed to something edgier and heavier, and it flowed slow and porous in his body like honey. Even his toes pulsed at the feel from the music, and filled him with jolts of electricity with every beat. He passed through the crowd of people near the speaker easily, calling Marinette close to him so that they wouldn’t get lost.

Marinette’s laughter died when they stumbled into Nino’s room, passing kissing couples in the hallway, and scaring the absolute hell out of a couple that had already made home on Nino’s bed. There was a flash of skin-- too much skin, dear  _ god _ too much skin-- that sent Adrien’s eyes reeling at the back of his head, trying not to keep the memory on walking in on two people for the rest of his life.

Adrien tried not to wince as Marinette eeped behind her hands, clutching her soda can to her chest. He closed the door behind them, the bass of the music heavy and rattling a shelf filled with knick knacks. “Sorry-- sorry-- hold on. I need to get something out of here. We’ll be leaving soon.”

“Get your own room,” One of the people on the other side of Nino’s bed frowned.

Adrien blushed, looking at Marinette, before dissolving into red. “--We’re not--”

Marinette gaped, anxious laughter bubbling in her throat. “I’m-- I’m not-- we’re--”

“--Not dating--”

“--I mean, that would be--”

Adrien sputtered. “--So silly!--” 

She broke out into full laughter.

Adrien cleared his throat when the couple continued to cringe at their words. “I’m just looking for my bag. We’ll be out in a second.”

“Can you hurry?”

“M-maybe we can get whatever you’re looking for later?” Marinette squeaked, hiding behind her hands again after a split decision to look around.

“Aha!” Adrien pulled his bag out from under Nino’s bed, wrapping the strap over his shoulder, thanking the couple casually before guiding Marinette out of the room by a hand on her back. As he closed the door behind him, the music changed in the living room, and Adrien dug through his bag.

Marinette leaned up against the wall, hands behind her back as she held the soda can against the wall, patiently waiting for whatever it was that he’d give her. Her cheeks were stained red, and her freckles almost gone at having walked in on two people who was halfway to being totally naked. It’d been awkward. Adrien didn’t want to think about it.

That was way too much skin.

He peered into his bag instead, finding that Tikki was still not in his bag. Was Noire having a good time at the party? He hoped she was dancing her heart out, maybe it would help her sleep later on. Noire had too much energy for her own good. 

Instead of worrying too much, he pulled out a simple sheet of cardstock carefully and held it out to Marinette, making sure that he wasn’t tearing any of the corners.

“What is--”

He held it out gently for her. “This is for you.”

Her curious gaze widened as she recognized the writing on the paper, her eyes turning into perfect circles. She blinked slow at the paper in his hands, as if the idea of blinking would make it disappear out of his hands and into the void entirely. “Is-- is this--”

He’d spent way too long trying to perfect his signature, wasting almost half of the packet of sheets he’d bought for this very project. Tikki had giggled for every paper he would ball up and trash, taking extra care to actually make it into the bin so that Noire couldn’t freak out on him. It’d taken him a while, but there it was: Mister Bug’s signature, along with the quote that he’d come up with when Noire had told him she’d made herself a signature phrase.

_ We won’t give up until we’ve done everything we can. Luck is on our side! --Mister Bug _

“I was saving for when we won.” Adrien smiled down at the paper, how she took it off of him with such care that it felt sacrilegious to watch. “But I realize that I would’ve given it to you tonight regardless of who won, but, now it’s extra special. Hopefully. Thank you for being the best president the class could’ve asked for, Marinette.”

Her lips parted in shock, blue eyes glittering as she looked back up at him. It caught him off guard at just how pretty she looked in the dim hallway light, hard bass and led lights bouncing against the walls and staining her black hair into neon blue. “How-- how did you--”

“I asked him.” He pocketed his hands into his jeans, his voice quieting down, murmuring to her as they got closer to hear each other over the noise of the bass. He bent over better slightly at the waist to to hear her, a smile on his face. “I know it meant a lot to you. So I asked him for it.”

“How did you know?” She continued to gape, her plush mouth shaped into a circle, eyes indecisive on whether or not to look at him or back at the signature. “I-- I’ve been wanting this for years--”

Adrien laughed. “I’ve been seeing your collage board on the back wall of your room for the past month or so. It always bothered me that you were missing his signature, when Noire’s was already there.”

“Well, you know-- he’s kind of a difficult person to get a hold of--” She cradled the signature in her hand, close to her chest, squinting her eyes in happiness. “Oh my god. Adrien, thank you--”

He smiled. “It was no trouble. Seriously, Marinette.”

She bent down to place her soda can down, and then the cardstock on the floor, before flinging her arms around his neck. He jolted in surprise, stuttering hard as she squished herself against him. Her weight and height tipped him forward, and he supported himself against the wall with a braced hand, soaking in her body heat as she squealed into his shoulder.

“Are you kidding? Oh my god. Oh my god oh my god oh my god. This is the most wonderful gift I’ve ever gotten-- thank you.” She squeezed his neck hard enough to choke, and he did partially, hearing her heartbeat loud against his ear as she continued to squeeze. “Thank you. Thank you so much. Thank you thank you thank you.”

* * *

_ (Hey Adrien!!!! So sorry to hear that you left :( is everything okay??) _

_ (Nino told me that you left without telling anyone!!! D: I’m so worried)  _

_ (Did you get home okay??? You shouldn’t have gone out alone by yourself!!!!)  _

_ (Kim and Alix could’ve walked you easily to your house so you wouldn’t be walking alone!!!!) _

_ ( >:( ) _

_ (I hope you get home safely. I’ll see you tomorrow!!!!! :shark-emoji: :laughing-cat-emoji: !!!!! Thanks for being the best vice I could’ve asked for!!!!!!!!) _

_ (Sleep well!! :revolving-hearts-emoji:) _

_ (Excited_Hug.gif) _

_ (Thanks for the autograph, by the way!!!!!!!! I’ll cherish it forever!!! ;_; ) _

_ (Crying_Happy.gif) _

Sent one hour ago.

_ [Hey man, the party’s still going on at my place, if you want to come back?] _

_ [No sweat, obviously]  _

_ [I don’t want you to burst your head open just because we want you here] _

_ [That headache you were talking about must’ve been killer] _

_ [It’s just that the party totally isn’t as fun without you, Mr. Handsome] _

_ [Also, Kim is starting the shots, and I think you should try one before some lunatic thinks they can handle Alix’s concoctions] _

Sent one hour ago.

_ {okay, YES} _

_ {alix and i ARE betting against each other that you and mari will get together by the end of the night} _

_ {are you happy now that i confessed :weary-emoji: :weary-emoji:} _

_ {cmon dude i need your help} _

_ {i bet sixty euros on this, give it a try? :praying-hands-emoji:} _

_ {:praying-hands-emoji: :praying-hands-emoji: :praying-hands-emoji:} _

_ {mari looks so upset that you left dude} _

_ {like even nath is picking up on it :weary-emoji:} _

_ {duuuuude i cannot owe alix any more money, man, my mom’s gonna FREAK} _

_ {MY ASS IS ON THE LINE RN ADRIEN} _

_ {COME KISS YOUR GIRL :steam-from-nose-emoji: :steam-from-nose-emoji:} _

_ {ITS JUST A KISS} _

_ {CMON} _

_ {ARE YOU ASLEEP ALREADY? CMON ADRIEN JUST A KISS} _

Sent one hour ago.

Adrien bit his lips as his phone powered back on, his suit dissolving from his skin. Red light burst in his peripheral vision as the suit unstitched from his hands, and he leaned down towards his desk chair to watch his phone rumble and vibrate from all the messages coming in.

He’d never been a popular person to text.

This was probably the most texts he’d ever gotten in his life.

Most of them were from Kim, yes, but  _ still. _ Was this what it was like to be Chloe?

He scrolled through the messages still piling in-- and, yes, most of them  _ still _ from Kim as he attempted to spam his phone in a way Adrien could only assume it was to wake him up before the party was over. Adrien chuckled as the messages continued, and continued, and  _ continued. _ From what he could glance at before they disappeared behind another text, most of them were prayer hand emojis, or crying faces emoji, all still from Kim.

Adrien had nothing to do except smile to himself as he thumbed through the swamp of messages to see what Marinette had sent.

(Hey! I’m alive! I promise!)

(I’ve made it home)

(I was just walking around before I came home)

(Paris is really nice when it’s dark and scary)

(That was a joke. Please don’t worry. It was a very quiet walk, but it’s totally okay if there was any danger because I know Kung Fu. (Okay, I don’t. But I’ve watched Kung Fu movies. So I think I’ll be okay. Maybe. Hopefully.))

(Thanks for worrying about me, Mari, that was sweet ;u; )

Would it be weird if he added an emoji? He bit his cheek, opting for the smiley faces he was making instead.

(See you tomorrow :D!)

(Madame President! :D)

If only it was Noire. Madame Pawsident. Meowdame President. She’d get a kick out of that one.

Kim’s messages continued to pile in as he drifted it off into thought, and Adrien bit back a laugh when he registered the buzzing in his hand.

[Hey Nino, sorry, I’m okay.]

[Thanks for the offer!] 

[See you tomorrow?]

[Don’t party too hard. I need you not hungover tomorrow]

[I’ve never been on a boat before so who knows? I might get seasick]

[Can’t have two people throwing up over and over]

[Marinette would /kill/ us.]

[No need to worry about sharks.]

[Also if Kim is still there tell him that I’ll make it up to him about the bet thing I feel bad]

With a roll of his eyes, he opened the one hundred and thirty six messages from Kim.

{Sorry Kim, my headache was actually going to kill me in three pieces if I stayed.}

{It might have been four, actually, if I showed up tomorrow with the headache still and Marinette caught whiff of me trying to do things while sick or dying or whatever this headache is.}

{Also, since you’re definitely losing this bet, I’ll pay you!}

{Also also, stop betting stupid bets with Alix, you’re always losing, it’s not worth it}

{She’s wringing you dry}

{You are her literal ATM bank right now, you know that right?}

He dropped his phone back onto his bed with a huff. Maybe a shower was in order. He was still feeling the dried sweat on his body from the stage lights, how he’d cooked slowly like a piece of meat in a crock-pot. He unclipped the earrings off his collar, placing them against his desk with a happy sigh.

Aside from the headache that continued to ring in his ears, Adrien hadn’t felt more alive in such a long time.

“Are you okay, Adrien?” Tikki collected the earrings from the desk surface to hide with her.

“Oh yeah, I’m fine.” His ears continued to shrill softly, but honestly, who cared? He’d had the best night of his life. “Just the headache. I took something for it before detransforming, so it should go away any moment now.”

“Was it because of how loud the music was?” She smiled knowingly.

“A little bit,” He confessed. “I’ve never been to a house party before. Like, a  _ true _ house party.”

Tikki giggled. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”

Adrien laughed with her, euphoric and free and light. “Yeah. Seeing Plagg in the fridge really solidified my night, I’m going to be honest.”

Tikki frowned. “O-oh. I didn’t know you saw Plagg in the fridge. Uhm.”

“It’s okay. I saw him at the back of the stage after presenting, so it’s okay. I’ve been thinking about it all night. Noire is a lot closer to me than I thought.” He dropped to his bed, spread eagle, letting his arms reach to either side of his bed as he side happily. “My best friend is actually someone I know, Tikki. This is good.”

“You’re not upset?” Tikki floated above him, staring at him with wide blue eyes.

He frowned. “Why would I be?”

“Well-- you just found out that it could be someone you know,” Tikki stepped carefully through the conversation, obviously trying to keep Noire’s real identity a secret.

“I’ve never had a problem with keeping my identity from Noire. It’s what she wanted.”

“That’s true. But, still. You were really close finding out her identity.”

“I don’t think that’s a problem.”

Tikki opened her mouth to respond but instead quickly dipped under the bed. He leaned over his bed to follow her, to call her out of her hiding spot-- throwing a long arm over the side of his bed.

He registered slowly that there was a squeaking noise at his window, and by the time he turned his head to look at the noise, Noire was dropping into his room with practiced grace. She patted off invisible dust from her shoulders as she dipped low with the momentum of her drop, belting her bo staff back at her hip.

He beamed. “Kitty!”

Noire cocked her head in surprise, coming closer to him on the bed. “Oh! You’re awake!”

He smiled, and trusted his shoulders to support Noire’s slight weight when he picked her up at the hips to twirl her like he’d been wanting to do ever since he won. She squealed as they turned, her tail and braid catching in the drag of the movement, genuine laughter on her lips. “You’re here late. Need to use my bathroom, or something, little kitty?”

She giggled. “No, I’m okay. How are you doing? What are you doing awake so late in the night?”

He hummed as her hands carded through his bangs, careful soft touches with her nails against his skull. She smelled of lemon, and sugar, and the coconut butter oil she used on her hair-- and Adrien twirled the ribbon at the end of her braid, never putting her down. He was so grateful for his arm muscles. “What are  _ you _ doing here so late at night? You’re not patrolling, are you?”

She giggled again. “No. I’m just dropping in to make sure you didn’t clunk out in the shower.”

“Uh huh.”

“It’s a serious problem, you know. Super models passing out in the showers.”

“You’ve read about them?”

“Extensively!” She curled into him, using her tail as a balance support so they both didn’t tumble forwards or backwards. “It’s a very common thing. I came here to check up on you so that you weren’t dying or dead.”

He pouted into her suit after their laughter died down a bit. “Did someone tell you that I got drunk? Cause I’m not drunk.”

“No, sunshine, no one told me you were drunk. How could they? And although I can totally smell just how bad you smell right now, sunshine, it’s definitely not an alcohol smell.” She made a face at him, staring at him with wide diamond eyes. “And I don’t need a good sense of smell for that. You may not be drunk, but you look--”

“Ecstatic?”

“Carefree, yeah!” She nodded. “Just like you do when you’re asleep.”

“Weirdo. Am I in a teen paranormal romance now?”

She huffed. “Oh come on, you know I can see in the dark. Besides, I  _ had _ to wake you up so I could use your bathroom.”

He laughed. “I haven’t showered since before you got here all those hours ago. Threatening me with a yoga class.”

“Maybe the yoga class worked  _ too _ well.” 

“You think so? Maybe it was all the glute stretches.” He took his time answering, letting her breath puff on his face. Noire was a classmate. Noire was someone from his school. Noire was someone who knew him, who was his best friend, who was closer than he thought. 

Emotions piled onto him-- happiness, bliss, genuine joy. He spun her again in his arms, and she dropped her hands from his hair to hold onto his shoulder as she squealed again.

“Adrien!”

“I’m just so happy.”

“Well, I’m about to make you happier!” She giggled as he stopped spinning. “Put me down because I have a present for you.”

It was almost comical at how easily she could do backwards handstand off of him, like she had absolutely no bones in her body, using her slashing tail as a good balance corrector. He sat down on his bed with a laugh, watching her release from her handstand, tucking her hands behind her back and leaning into her hips. “What is it? What’s the present?”

“Close your eyes.” She grin went wide, unhooking something from the small green string belt at her hip. “It’s a su-purr-ise.”

He groaned, “Awful. Zero out of ten.”

“Don’t be mean, you love my puns.”

“Sometimes. You didn’t even try on that one.” He closed his eyes anyway and cupped his hands, awaiting whatever she put on his palm. Something noisy clicked in front of him, ruining his willpower to not take a sneaky peek at what she was holding.

“Are your eyes closed?”

“Kitty.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Knowing you? Probably just a middle finger, so one.”

She cackled. “Okay, maybe your eyes  _ are _ open.”

“I promise they’re not.”

“Pawmise?”

_ “Kitty.” _

She dropped it into his hands. “You can open your eyes now.”

He blinked down at the string of beads in his hand. “What’s this?”

“I worked on it for a good hour or two, and I even had to reask my uncle on how to make it, so don’t make fun of it,” She pouted. “I used to make these all the time when I was younger. It’s a lucky charm bracelet!”

He lifted the string by one end, the beads shiny. Each bead was separated by a thin knot in the red string, and upon further inspection, he realized that each bead was in a different shape. It reminded him a lot of Marinette’s charm bracelet she used, just more handcrafted and lovingly made for him.

He crushed Noire into a hug. Her small waist felt right in his arms as he squished her into his body, and he had half a mind to spin the both of them again, but opted for trying to crush her with his human strength. “Thank you, silly kitty. What’s the gift for?”

“For being my best friend, of course!” She giggled. “You’re my bestest friend in the whole wide world, Adrien, and I’m so happy. I’m so happy I could  _ cry.  _ You are so thoughtful-- and wonderful-- and always here for me and I just-- oh I just needed to make you something for it.”

He laughed. “Kitty, you don’t need to make me something for being your friend.”

“That’s where I disagree! Here, let me put it on you. I hope I made the bracelet big enough, your wrists are huge.”

“Maybe you’re just small.”

“Hmm, nah. I’d like to believe that I’m normal sized and you’re just too spaghetti-legged and noodle-armed.” She stuck out her tongue as she clasped the bracelet on his wrist, way too skilled for the job given her hexsteel claws. She must’ve been practicing. “There we go! What do you think?”

“I love it,” He peered down, smile never leaving his face. “I’m never going to stop wearing it.”

“According to my uncle’s book, the bracelet is supposed to represent good luck. You keep wearing it twenty-four seven until the beads start to crack, which means that you’re in need of a new one. I have one of my own, but I have it in a metal so that my luck never runs out.” She winced. “I didn’t get you a metal one just yet because I know you don’t wear a lot of jewelry, so. I didn’t want to give you what would be a heavy price out of my wallet just for you to wear it out of politeness.”

“No, no way. I’m going to wear this until it falls off my wrist, I promise.” He crushed her back into a hug. “Thank you, kitty. This is the nicest gift I’ve ever gotten, and I want you to slap me if I forget to wear it.”

She giggled. “I’m glad you liked it! I was worried. So, how did the class meeting go? Tell me!”

“I’m sure you already know, don’t you?” He fidgeted with one of the beads on his wrist. He understood now why Marinette was always stimming with them. “I saw Plagg at the back of the stage looking around for drama props. I was so happy that we won that I just wanted to hug you right there and then.”

Noire paused. “What?”

“Granted, I couldn’t exactly do that because after that akuma I was told to--”

“Wait. Wait. Pause. What did you say about Plagg?”

He frowned. “I-- I said I saw him backstage. And in Nino’s fridge.”

“Y-you--” Her eyes widened. It was only then that Adrien recognized her shifting feet-- the wide arc of her tail as it slashed behind her. Her shoulders were tense and high against her human ears, diamond green eyes slitted into small slivers. Uh oh.

“Kitty?”

She flinched, hexleather ears flat against her head. “Oh god. Oh no. Oh no-- oh  _ no.” _

“It’s-- it’s okay.” He reached for her with the arm that had been between her hands up until now. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“I didn’t-- I didn’t want you to--” She stepped back a step. Another one. A third. She covered her face with her mouth, trying to hold back a cry. “I-- I didn’t-- want you to--”

“Noire?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to find out.” She gasped, tears welling up at the corner of her eyes. “I swear I didn’t-- I didn’t mean-- for it to develop like this-- I’m-- I’m so--”

“Find out what? I don’t understand? Noire?”

She turned for the window and fled, leaving Adrien standing alone in his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be much shorter and will be coming out sooner (maybe? hopefully?) so make sure to keep track of this fic if you want to see it completed!!! The angst won't stay for long, I promise. I /promiiiiise/. Have faith in me!
> 
> Thank you so much for the comments, I literally look at them over and over and over and over and-- yeah.
> 
> Love you Lots!!!  
> FragileIzy <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter to bridge the gap between last chapter and the one after this one!  
> I'll upload the next chapter on Friday. Keep on the lookout for it!
> 
> I've been swamped with tests :'D
> 
> Enjoy!

“Okay. Spill, Adrien.”

“Right now?” Christ, he was going to hurl, wasn’t he? All over the deck? Maybe he could make it to the side of the bannister before he actually did, but if he took one more step in any direction it was possible that he’d collapse onto the floor before being able to do anything. 

And then vomit on himself.

And then die.

What a way to go. Hawkmoth had nothing to fear if the owner of the ladybug miraculous was just going to do half of his whole ‘kill them and take their miraculous’ agenda.

“Yes. Start talking.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, I really think I’m going to--” He squinted his eyes shut to the point of watching sparks of white flicker behind his eyelids. It was too bright out for this.

Nino sighed, relaxing his hands on his shoulders. “Did you eat any breakfast, man?”

“Yes.” No. He’d left his house before the cooks had finished making it, and while normally he would’ve felt horrible about doing something like that, he hadn’t been able to convince any of them that he wasn’t hungry.

He hadn’t been able to sleep.

Since she left, Adrien had been stuck looking at the same spot on the wall, replaying their conversation over and over and over and over and  _ over _ until his eyes had glazed over. Tikki had panicked when he hadn’t responded after a full minute, threatening to call Master Fu, but he couldn’t even hear her.

He hadn’t slept.

The sun had risen, he’d put on his clothes that Noire had helped him separate out a long while ago for the class movie-- Noire,  _ Noire _ had picked out the clothes for him, the last person who ever cared about him and picked lint off his clothes and smiled at him and laughed at his jokes and kept him company and was the last thing he thought about before sleep and the first thing he thought about when he woke up and the first face he looked for when there was an akuma and was his best friend and-- and--

Adrien didn’t feel his arms when he slipped on the shirt, or the board shorts. He felt detached from his body, floating away, completely gone and missing from his usual self. His chest hurt. His heart hurt. His entire body felt feverish as he obsessed over what he’d done wrong.

He was so, entirely, completely wrong.

“--Adrien?” Nino kneeled down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to sound comforting. “Do you want to stay behind on the deck while the rest of them go up on the boat?”

“I need to sit down, I think.” His hands were shaking. He could feel his heartbeat in his mouth. Had he even brushed his teeth this morning? Or was that rotting texture coating his tongue the feeling of a heartbreak?

“I-is he okay?” Adrien’s vision swam as he tilted his head to look at Marinette’s shoes, not having the energy to look up. She sounded meek, soft, too far away for her own good. Adrien dropped his head back to the floorboard of the dock, trying not to whimper.

“Oh. Oh yeah. He’s fine, Mari, I got it all covered.” Nino patted Adrien’s shoulder, like it would just continue to prove him right.

“A-are you sure? I can stay behind with him--” She choked on something, Adrien wasn’t sure. Her shoes were shiny. “I-- uhm-- I don’t have anything to do for the project today, so…”

“Seriously Marinette, you’re good. I’ll stay behind with him, don’t worry about him. Go enjoy the sun and the water, you look like you’re ready for it.”

“B-but--”

“It’s fine, I’m okay, I’ll be fine.” Adrien waved her away, the charm bracelet on his arm-- Noire had give him that,  _ Noire had given him that, Noire, Noire--  _ he tried to console Marinette while trying to keep his body as still as possible. “We’re just going to chill out here. I’m not feeling all that well, but I’ll be okay.”

“D-do you need something? I might have some nausea relief in my bag,” She dug fast through her tote, unzipping a bag or another to pull out a small tube that rattled in her hand when she shook it to tell if there was anything in there. “U-uhm. Adrien, I--”

Nino sighed, cutting her off. “I don’t think that’ll do him good, but I’ll take it off of you. He didn’t eat anything yet, so I’m going to go help him to the nearest cafe. I’ll make sure he pops one or two after food.”

“I ate breakfast.”

“I know when you’re lying, Adrien. Plus, your breath stinks, man, you definitely didn’t eat anything.” Nino’s head moved back up to face Marinette as Adrien panted hard into the floor board. “We’re going to take a walk around afterwards, and we’ll wait for the boat back here when you guys are done. Stay safe, okay?”

Marinette stepped closer, and Adrien somehow hyperfocused on the laces of her shoes, following the green strips that zig zagged. He wondered if Noire was okay. He wondered if he would be able to apologize to her. If she would even look at him ever again. He wondered if Noire was as bad as him right now. 

“A-adrien?”

He gave her a weak thumbs up, trying his best not to choke.

The tube of pills rattled near his ear as she transferred it to Nino’s awaiting hand, and Adrien could only grit his teeth as her shoes disappeared out of his vision after a final hesitation.

Adrien made his way gingerly across the deck towards a bench, keeping his head down so that he wouldn’t accidentally set himself off into spilling whatever was left in his stomach into the ocean. Even if it would make him feel better.

Nino sat next to him, pocketting the pill bottle into one of his many pockets of his khaki’s, staring out to the boats lined up on the dock. He sighed as he flipped his hat the other way, not letting the sun in his eyes.

“You should go with them.” Adrien rested his head back on the bannister, tasting salt from the sea and heartbreak from his rising heart rate on the roof of his mouth. “I know how excited you were to go on the boat with Alya.”

“Quit it, man. I’m not leaving you behind while you’re passing out. I’m not that type of friend and you know that.”

Adrien bit back a huff, too amused at the valiant show of friendship to be upset. “I know, Nino. You’re a really good friend.”

They kept watch of the bobbing water, how their classmates piled into the rented boat, Alix and Kim grinning at each other as they zipped up their suits. Adrien wanted to cry. His heart felt too weak.

Nino sighed again after a moment of silence. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get angry.” 

“You’re good.”

“Nah. That wasn’t cool of me. I’m worried about you, and I’m getting frustrated.” Nino waited for a response. “Ever since last night you’ve been off your rocks, dude. I thought you were just scared about something from last night-- I don’t know-- I thought maybe you’d kissed Marinette off stage and just couldn’t get over it, or something.”

“No, there was no kissing.” He couldn’t get the sight of Noire’s widening eyes out of his mind, the fear that emanated off of her so tangibly he could touch it. He licked his lips, wincing at the chalkiness. “I-I’m not like this because of Marinette.”

“You sure?”

“What do you mean?”

Nino faltered, stepping carefully. “Well, I mean. She looks like she’s about to cry. And Alya told me that she called her in the middle of the night crying, impossible to understand.”

“What do you mean? What happened?” What? She’d been fine when he left the party. Maybe she had been worried about him, sure, but he had texted her back saying that he was okay. She’d never responded to the texts, now that he thought about it some more, but honestly he’d had bigger things to worry about it last night.

“I don’t know.” Nino sighed again. “Alya said she was crying too hard to talk. It’s never happened before. I thought something had happened between the two of you.”

“She was fine when I talked to her at the party.”

“Nothing happened?”

The world bobbed under his feet as he tried to keep his body steady. “Nothing that I know of. I gave her a Mister Bug autograph that she was missing from her wall.”

“But right now, I mean.” Nino’s hands moved too fast for Adrien’s dead brain to process. “She looked like she was going to start crying again.”

Adrien’s heart sank. What had he done wrong there? “I have no idea.”

This was all his fault. He wished he could get in contact with her somehow-- text her, plead her to talk to him. Tell her that he was sorry-- that he shouldn’t have gone nosing for her identity. Tikki and Plagg had been right-- miraculous users finding out each other’s identities were a mess.

Maybe that’s why Noire had been adamant about keeping their identities a secret. Maybe it would’ve been better that Adrien didn’t know.

He wished he could go back in time and keep his mouth shut. He wish he could’ve let Noire inside his room and let her put the charm bracelet on him, watch movies with her until she passed out on his chest while curled up on the couch. He wished he could’ve kept his mouth  _ shut.  _ He shouldn’t have. He shouldn’t have. He shouldn’t have.

He didn’t want this to happen. Noire was his best friend and he-- and he-- and he was certain he’d lost her, regardless of how many times Tikki assured him that it could be fixed. Adrien was grateful he wasn’t standing, knowing that he’d be collapsed on the floor from his weak knees. He missed Noire. He wished he could text her and ask her if she was okay. He wished he could text her he was sorry.

Nino sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Hm. I wonder what had happened with her.”

“I don’t know.” It was the truth. Adrien had no idea.

Nino patted his knee after a short while of watching the rented boat take their classmates away. “Come on. Let’s get you to the cafe. You look like you’re rotting inside and out.”

* * *

Chairs were usually too small for him, but really, this was getting ridiculous.

He slumped into his chair as a bright washed-face waitress helped them with their menus, trying his best to give the middle aged woman a smile. They were seated outside, letting the breeze pass over them in an attempt to get Adrien to calm down and stop trying to hurl.

Nino couldn’t stop frowning in worry.

“No breakfast?” Adrien could barely read the menu.

“It’s three in the afternoon, dude.”

“Shit.”

“God, you’re more out of it than I thought.” Nino sat back into his chair, also way too small for it. If he leaned too far back, it was likely that he’d tip over and onto the floor. Adrien would’ve laughed under any other circumstance.

“Sorry. I didn’t get much sleep.” He drank all the water poured in his glass.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He faltered. The last thing he wanted to do was somehow spill Noire’s identity that she went to his school. He didn’t want to make her any uncomfortable than she already clearly was. He didn’t want to ruin his friendship any more than he already had. So he chewed on his cheek as he thought on what to say and do, tapping his fingernails against the glass. “I think I lost a friendship last night.”

Nino’s face pinched sympathetically. “Oh, dude. I’m so sorry. Are you sure you’re not talking about Marinette?”

“No.” He sighed. “Someone else.”

“Not to be mean, but honestly, I hadn’t imagined you had other friends.” Nino made another face.

Adrien laughed, not exactly bitterly, but not exactly humorous either. “Yeah, that figures. Most of the things I do outside of school don’t have other people in it. Modelling never gives me any time to socialize.”

“So, tell me what happened, man. I’m your best friend, I want to be there for you.”

Adrien smiled weakly. “Stick with me here. I can’t tell you everything, and you’ll understand the reasons why soon enough, but I promise you I’m not pulling at your leg.”

Nino scrunched his nose. “Okay? Sure. I believe you, dude, don’t worry. You wouldn’t be this pale if it wasn’t true.”

Was he pale? No one could match the paleness of Noire or Marinette, sure-- and Adrien definitely wasn’t as tan as Nino. But when he looked to his arms he noticed the paleness of his skin that matched his father. He looked down to his hands, watching them wobble and twitch under his scrutiny, wondering if it was truly the nausea or it was just fear of losing his most treasured friend.

His stomach went sour. “I think Lady Noire and I just had a fight. I think I ruined things to the point that she isn’t going to talk to me ever again.”

Nino blinked slowly at him. “Uhm. What?”

“I know, I know. That sounds ridiculous.” Adrien groaned into his hands, trying to make the shaking stop. “Just stay with me here.”

“Lady Noire? Like, Lady Noire? The  _ superhero?” _ Nino sat up in his chair. 

“Nino, keep it down,” Adrien hissed. “Please. I don’t want anyone to know about this.”

“Right, right. Of course.”

Nino had become a superhero before to save Alya. Noire had come up with the idea to bring a new superhero along to test the waters, and they’d both decided to pick Nino after they realized that the best chance they had to getting Alya back was if someone in her life that loved and cared about her was also the one fighting with them.

What better person to do that than her boyfriend?

It was a solid idea.

Mister Bug had been the one to collect Wayzz from Master Fu’s house.

Noire had been the one to drag Nino’s sobbing, crying mess from out of his house.

He was never quite sure how she did it, Nino was so much taller than her, and when Nino cried he was unmovable. It was possible that not even using Mister Bug’s strength could’ve been enough to move Nino out of the rut he’d been when Alya had been taken away by the akuma.

And yet Noire continued to do the impossible. Piggybacking Nino out of the house, carrying someone almost twice her height down the city of Paris, avoiding any potential akuma webs.

Nino knew now that superhero identities meant serious business, and superhero secrets were also secret business. To the point where, if Adrien hadn’t been Mister Bug, he’d never had known that Nino had become enamoured by Wayzz’s sweet personality. Nino had been as silent as the grave about it. No one knew that Nino had been a superhero except Nino, him, and Noire.

He was thankful for his friends. Truly. He just wished he could be the same as them, never trying to guess other people’s identities. He couldn’t bear the heartache.

The two of them parted as the waitress came back to collect their orders, and Adrien picked the first thing he could spot on the menu that sounded like something he’d be interested in if it wasn’t for the pit in his chest. The smile he gave the waitress was enough for the middle-aged woman to blush, which was good news, considering he felt like shit. No one outside his social circle could probably see that he looked so bad. Good.

Nino leaned back in when the waitress left, thankfully keeping his voice down. “Wait. Is  _ that _ why you went on a month-long campaign on social media about how she was the best super hero?”

“Uhm, yeah. She’s been coming to my house for the past year, and I realized just how badly people treated her.” Adrien watched Nino flounder in his chair in surprise. “It wasn’t cool. So I got angry and I contacted Mister Bug’s official page about it, asking if he could help me out.”

Nino gaped. “Whoa, wait. You’re going to have to slow down for me here, I’m sorry. Why was she showing up at your house?” 

Adrien blinked slowly, trying to think where this all began. Where should he start? He didn’t want to give Nino the impression that this was something different than an actual coincidence, and he didn’t want to mention that he was a superhero either. “Oh. Uhm, I think it started when she got super angry at me for trying to help out during an akuma once, and I guess it became such a habit for her to show up at my house that she just kept doing it over and over. We’ve been inseparable, practically, this entire year when I didn’t have any plans at all.”

Nino gasped. “Dude. Have you-- have you been  _ dating--” _

“No. No-- we’re not-- we  _ weren’t--” _ Adrien cringed, suddenly remembering this exact situation last night with Marinette, before his life had gone to absolute shit. “We weren’t dating. We’re not dating. Just friends. Best friends. Were. Was.”

There weren’t any kisses involved. Cuddling, yes-- watching a movie with Noire but having to keep her still meant laying flat on her, but it was platonic, right? Platonic cuddling? She slept fine on his chest, too, when there weren’t any akumas and he didn’t have any photoshoots to do or runways to walk and there wasn’t any new movie to watch and all they did was lounge on his couch, watching her tail flicker as she catnapped on him. 

Sure, he’d nuzzled the top of her head before. Scraped his nails along her back as she slept. He was okay with the drool. But it’s not as if he wouldn’t do that with Nino either, given the chance, and he wasn’t romantically involved with him. It was how he’d learn to show affection, now that Noire had been the only thing in his life to show him just how friendly and cuddly he could be with friends.

Was he interested in Noire romantically? Could he be? He wasn’t sure, exactly. He’d never considered it before. But he knew he missed her cuddling, he missed her smiles, and he most definitely missed her laughter. What had he done?

Nino deadpanned. “I don’t believe you.”

Adrien’s face pinched. “You know I only have feelings for Marinette.”

“Yeah, but, come on. You know you can like two girls at once, you don’t have to be exclusive to people you aren’t dating yet.”

Well, yeah. Obviously. “I know that, but--”

“Don’t try to tell me that all that social media talk you went on about with how she’s ‘so cute’ and could ‘totally kill you’ and you’d ‘let her step on you’ and--”

_ “Nino.” _ He felt embarrassed.

“--I’m just saying how it is.” He held his hands up, showing no malice. “Alya doesn’t know about this, does she? I’m assuming the answer is no?”

He filled his water with the large glass recycled wine bottle left on their table, inhaling the water like a shot. “Absolutely not. The Ladyblog would’ve been telling everyone in the world, you know that. We wanted to keep it as a secret. I still want to keep it a secret. You can’t tell anyone about this Nino, please. Not Alya. Not Marinette. Nobody.”

“Yeah. Yeah I agree. Alya absolutely would’ve asked to have gone over your house if she’d known. And hey, don’t worry. My lips are sealed, I promise.” Nino made the effort of going through with miming sealing his lips with a zipper. He threw the proverbial key behind his shoulder. “My friendship with you comes first before anything else.”

Adrien breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks. I’ve been such a mess, Nino. Noire’s been coming to my house for the past year and we’ve become such close friends. She’s my best friend, after you. She used to come over every night and now I ruined it. I ruined our friendship.”

Nino paused to let his thoughts simmer. No doubt, Nino was buzzing in his seat at the idea of learning someone’s identity-- it was only nature to be curious about things of that kind. But Nino wasn’t that kind of guy. Curious, yes, but loyal. And Adrien would absolutely not mention anything to do with identities. He couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t do that to  _ them. _

“What did you do, man?” Nino settled on an easier question. “What happened that you ruined your friendship with her?”

His smile felt dry. “I think I may have gotten too close to finding out her identity in real life.”

Nino flinched. “Yeah, that sounds about enough to get an entire friendship to fall apart.”

“I haven’t been able to sleep since early morning,” Adrien thumbed the slight curve of the glass cup, glancing down at his beaded bracelet. “I feel like death. And I don’t know what to do anymore, Nino.”

* * *

Tikki tucked herself into his collar as he stepped out of the alleyway.

He hadn’t transformed, not since the incident at school where Simon had been akumatized on stage. It felt like years ago to Adrien, who was slowly starting to recuperate his life back together from the thousand little pieces it had exploded into when he’d realized that Noire wasn’t coming back into his room.

The past three weeks of his life had been torture.

He hadn’t seen Noire since that day, either. Everytime he closed his eyes he could still see the panic on her face. He wanted to curl up in his bed and cry his heartbreak away. Stop going to school. Stop answering Nino’s texts. Just slip away into his bed and hibernate, let the feelings wash away. It hurt to even remember-- sometimes he’d see something or do something in his quiet room and briefly turn around to talk to her, and realize that she was completely gone.

No sleeping kitties on his couch.

No organizing ladies in his bathroom.

No snores, no laughter, no yoga with silly concentration tactics that he would give anything to listen to again. He would give anything to listen to her theorize if Mister Bug was secretly a circus performer. He would give anything to hug her, and spin her around in his arms, crush her hard into his chest. He would give anything to let things go back to normal.

He still caught himself flinching when he’d put his shirts into the wrong drawer. He’d thumb at the labeling stickers she’d placed on his desk supplies that threatened to peel. He looked at all the Noire merchandise he’d accumulated via Master Fu’s insistence from all these years, hold the neon green pawprint on a polo shirt close to his chest as he broke down in his closet.

His heart ached. He missed her. He missed her so much it hurt.

Maybe he was in love.

Tikki did her best to keep him active, trying her best to push him out of bed on those brief moments where his schedule was clear for the day. He worked on the scarf when he could bear it, mind numbing as he watched rerun after rerun of Pichi Pichi Pitch. He couldn’t bear watching Sailor Moon without her. He got nauseous thinking of watching Tokyo Mew Mew without his own kitty. Every scene with Ichigo in it just made him think of Noire.

He crossed the street after he made sure to check for cars, walking through the streets with his hands in his jeans and his eyes cast down. He couldn’t see much ahead of him, long blonde eyelashes covering the top half of his vision as he made sure to keep his eyes low.

He knew it was bad to wish for, he knew,  _ he knew _ , but he wished that there had been a new akuma. Just to catch a glimpse of her-- of Noire-- see if she was doing okay. Hopefully he would be able to see her this afternoon, but he wasn’t sure. He had a meeting at Master Fu’s place, and was walking there, debating on whether or not it would be okay to turn around and bolt and stay home.

Tikki had encouraged him to go, telling him that even though there was a communication problem between the two of them, Hawkmoth didn’t know about that. Regrouping, even though it would be just for show, was better than giving any impression to Hawkmoth that there was something wrong. He could use that against them so easily.

So Adrien walked down the street.

Would Noire be able to see the guilt behind his mask? Would she be able to see just how much it pained him to see her? Was she eating? Was she okay? Would he be able to talk to her without breaking down crying about how much he missed her, even though he was Mister Bug?

He sighed, eyes catching on mint green ribbons with gold foiling. He stopped short in front of Marinette’s bakery, looking up as Master Fu loitered in front of the front door, holding a basket of Dupain-Cheng foods. He hadn’t even recognized him outside of his usual hawaiian shirts, the older man dressed in a simple button down and slacks.

“Master Fu?”

“[Hello, young one.]” Master Fu straightened out his back. Adrien’s eyes twitched at the Mandarin, already settling into a cold type of nervousness as he tried to piece together an appropriate greeting on the spot. “[Is everything alright with you? You look lost, almost.]”

The bakery door opened before he was able to talk. “Uncle, Mom said that she won’t be able to-- oh.”

Adrien blinked hard at Marinette, who held the broom on her hands so tightly that her knuckles turned white around the handle, eyes wide as she looked between Master Fu and him. Uncle? Marinette was Master Fu’s niece, too? 

Oh no. He hadn’t wanted to find out anything more about Noire, it wasn’t fair to her. He hadn’t even been looking for an answer as to which family Noire belonged to, and now he was worried that he was getting closer and closer to knowing her identity without his permission.

He looked over Marinette briefly as she shifted on her feet again, taking in the dark circles under her eyes. There looked like there was color correct under them, like always-- and foundation too-- but they seemed more prominent. The stubborn purple under her eyes made her look almost ghastly with her pale skin.

He wondered if she was getting any sleep.

“Oh, hey--”

“Ah.” Master Fu poked at his foot hard enough to make Adrien wince at the pain. “[French? Really?]”

Marinette broke out of her trance to look down at her uncle with an exasperated glare. “Uncle, he doesn’t speak--”

She winced with a harsh squeak when he poked her in the foot as well. “[No French.]”

Adrien bit his cheek. “[Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb.]”

“You--” Marinette’s eyes widened at the prospect of getting poked again, stepping on the balls of her feet and using her boom as a barrier away from Master Fu’s poking cane. She scuffled with him as the oldman chuckled, looking at Adrien with wide eyes. “[Y-you speak  _ Mandarin?]” _

“[I’m one of Master Fu’s students.]” He explained, struggling for words, watching her block a poke from her uncle with a slap of her broom. He twirled the charm bracelet on his wrist as he flushed to his bone in embarrassment. Marinette was fast to block every attempt of a jab. “[I’ve been studying Mandarin since I was twelve. I didn’t know you knew Mandarin, either.]”

“[Well, yeah. I am half Chinese, after all. I never knew you--]” She dropped her head down slightly, using the bristles of her broom to trap his cane entirely underneath her foot. “[Uncle! Please, you know I can’t focus on two things at once.]”

Master Fu laughed. “[Maybe I should have you come over and talk to him some more. You’re both doing very well. Especially for someone who pretends she doesn’t understand it.]”

Marinette blushed hard. “[I don’t pretend to not understand it, I just don’t know how to read it very well. Would you pay me, at least, if I came over to help you with your students?]”

“[I’ll think about it.]”

“[Uncle.]”

“[It’s alright. Now that I know you speak Mandarin, it would be nice to talk to you some more about it.]” Adrien turned to Master Fu, who looked at him quizzically. “[Marinette and I are classmates from school.]”

“[Speaking of, what are you doing here, Adrien?]” She looked warily between him and Master Fu, biting her tongue, her eyes swirling with thoughts he couldn’t recognize.

Adrien floundered. He couldn’t tell her that he was going to Master Fu’s place, that might give something away. “[Just passing by. I needed to-- uh-- clear my head. Are you ready for the field trip tomorrow?]”

Marinette went quiet, blinking slow at him as she finally looked him over. “[Adrien? Is everything okay?]”

He winced, feeling uncomfortable in his skin. He didn’t know how to curse in Mandarin, so he sucked in air through his teeth instead. “[Yeah. Everything’s fine-- I’m sorry. I have to go. Excuse me.]”

* * *

“Uncle, please, stop.”

Mister Bug’s head snapped to the door as the two of them pushed through.

Wayzz had let him in through the window, telling him that Master Fu had been out but would be returning soon after his errands. He knew what Master Fu had been doing up until now, probably scolding one of his nieces to death as he loitered outside of her bakery. 

So. Marinette was Master Fu’s niece, too.

He wished to slam his head onto the low table enough times to never wake up again.

Instead of screaming into a pillow like he should’ve done in the beginning, he’d sat down with Wayzz as they waited for the rest of the group to arrive, and petted the little turtle as he muled over his thoughts. There wasn’t a purr from Wayzz’s mouth like there was with Plagg, but it was a soft sighing noise that had reminded him of Tikki well.

It was therapeutic to let Wayzz ramble on about newest theories him and Master Fu had come up with, to pet him lovingly under the chin. He loved all the kwamis that he’d met so far. He missed Plagg.

He wondered if he’d ever see him again.

His heart hurt.

Wayzz and Mister Bug watched curiously as Noire paced about the room, her tail whipping behind her in long gracious arcs as she groaned and stamped her foot. She looked okay. Healthy, even, to an untrained eye. But he knew far too much about her now to say that’s the truth.

Noire looked too skinny.

She always was small at the waistline-- most of her bulk went into her thighs or arms to keep up with her bo staff. But it was never enough to see her ribs clearly through the tough hexleather that coated them like second skin. Her ribs were evident as she breathed, her cheeks almost hollow, her hexleather ears dipped slightly forward from their usual perky selves.

Noire didn’t look healthy at all.

Mister Bug continued to stare, wide eyed, at Noire-- trying desperately to soak her in and keep his distance. Longing to reach out to her and hug her. Apologize. But nothing came out of his mouth, frozen in fear, staring at her like a deer in headlights.

He hadn’t seen in her in almost a month. Ever since-- ever  _ since-- _

He hadn’t thought she was going to show up, to be honest.

But he was Mister Bug, not Adrien. Noire had no issue with his superhero identity.

It was clear enough that she had no ill feelings towards him with the way she almost ignored his presence altogether in favor of pacing the room, walking across the long livingroom as if there was nothing to do except sulk. She refused to make eye contact with him as she grumbled and growled to herself, biting hard at her swollen bottom lip, hexsteel claws drumming along the sides of her arms as she crossed and uncrossed them.

Something must’ve happened between the two of them prior to coming in, that was obvious-- but it felt dangerous to stay next to Noire as he all-but physically felt energy crackle and crinkle in the living room. It was so foreign to experience and yet something so instinctual to feel-- he knew, just by looking, that Noire was creating whatever energy it was as she grit her teeth with a groan. Something was seriously wrong with her.

He wanted to cry.

“Can’t you just  _ listen _ to me?” She sighed as Master Fu hobbled his way into the apartment, setting the basket of bakery goods on the closest table. The mint green ribbons flapped uselessly as an invisible energy ebbed and surged in the room.

“You are behaving like a child.”

Noire gasped, fisting her hands at her sides. “I wonder why! Could it be that I still  _ am _ one? Wouldn’t that be something to consider? And, as you know, a seventeen year old can’t be anything other than a  _ child.” _

“Don’t get snippy with me, little Lady.” Master Fu’s eyes narrowed on her as she continued to pace and alternate between crossing her arms over her chest and pulling at her bangs in frustration. “But fine, since you are incapable of reasoning. You’re not behaving like a  _ young adult.” _

“Uncle--”

Wayzz poured another cup of tea on the low table, the one that Mister Bug held onto tightly with dear life, trying his best not to crack or splinter the wood with his strength. Maybe he shouldn’t have come to the meeting today. Clearly something was amiss between the two of them-- something family related that he wasn’t sure he wanted to be here to witness.

It wasn’t often that the two of them had spats-- something that Noire was never proud of after they would sit in front of their usual spot at the Sacre Coeur. Usually it started when Master Fu claimed that her skills were starting to slip, and would advise her to spend multiple days in the training room working on her bo staff techniques in order to make him more agreeable.

He worked her to the bone when he wasn’t impressed.

She’d bicker with him until he’d made his decision nonnegotiable, and she’d disappear for a couple of days out of Adrien’s house altogether.

After those days, she’d usually come back to his house tired, disappointed, and feeling slow enough to hibernate. It took her a day or two of Adrien’s constant reassurances and hours of various physical activities for the shine in her eyes to return.

It was brutal, and he’d complained over it multiple times. Noire would never agree with him, claiming that it was necessary to become a super hero. Even if it meant being worked down to the marrow.

Master Fu did the same with him when they met for his Mandarin classes-- every slip up was just another reason for Master Fu to click his teeth and sigh, and drill him over and over while having him perform other tasks to the point where it made him feel hollow and empty inside. He was necessarily the worst at multitasking, sure, but the type of intense low-priority drilling that Master Fu put him through was enough to carve a dull panic into his bone every time.

He hated it.

Not to mention the times where he would have Mister Bug show up and train on equipments with his yoyo, testing his reaction times, pushing him harder with the amount of weight he could push or pull to the point where he couldn’t feel his arms even within the suit. And it was probable that he was getting off easy, when Master Fu would do nothing except look at him with a disappointed face, and tell him to try again.

Master Fu looked tired, waving his hand next to his face like he could skip this argument entirely. “You are behaving terribly. Like a toddler. Like a child that hasn’t grown past the age of eight, what have you.”

Noire hissed, energy crackling around her as she bared her teeth. “Past the age of eight?  _ Past the age of eight?” _

Master Fu finally acknowledged Mister Bug’s presence with a cutting glance, one that spoke of a thousand and one experiences. “When she’s angry, she’s inconsolable. I suggest you don’t make her angry, it is impossible to get through to her.”

There was more to that story. Is it possible that he knew what had happened between him and Noire?

Of course he did. Master Fu always knew more than let on.

“Past the age of eight, uncle? The year that I learned about the miraculous? You want to ask me why I act as if I haven’t grown up from being  _ eight years old?” _

“I have been the guardian for the miraculous my entire life, young Lady.”

Noire sucked in a breath. “You're not the only one whose devoted their entire life to it, don’t act like you’re the only one who’s sacrificed their life for the miraculous. You want to know why I’m still ‘acting like an eight year old girl’? Could it be that it’s because I never had the chance to be anything else other than this? I have worked for ten--”

“--Nine.”

Mister Bug was glad he wasn’t on the other side of that sharp look she gave to Master Fu. Forget her hexsteel claws, that look  _ alone _ could tear through anything.  _ “Ten. _ I was barely an eight year old when I learned about the miraculous. Three days into my eighth year on this earth and I was told about the existence of kwamis. I have worked for  _ ten _ years, making sure that I was the most perfect I could ever be-- so that I could be the best guardian this world has ever seen-- so that you could be happy-- so that you’d be  _ proud _ of me.”

Master Fu took a sip of his tea, passive, like he was emotionally checked out of the argument. “I  _ am _ proud of you.”

“Bullshit.”

Oh. Oh god. Mister Bug’s eyes threatened to widen behind the domino mask-- Wayzz hid behind the teapot with a soft gasp, and they both held their breaths. Maybe he  _ really  _ shouldn’t have been here. Noire’s hands fisted at her sides, her tail whipping hard enough to make audible sound.

Master Fu was far too gentle with the way he put down his cup, blinking at her almost passively. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were allowed to speak to me that way.”

“You’re not proud of me. You were  _ never _ proud of me.” Noire’s tail lashed, barrelling through, making Wayzz flinch behind the teapot. Mister Bug tried soothing him with a finger. “How can you lie to me like that? Look at me in the eye and tell me that everything you’ve put me through to become the next guardian was necessary. I was barely eight years old when it started.  _ Eight, _ uncle. Look at me in the eye that everything you’ve done was important for my survival. Do you know just how difficult it is to balance school, life at home, and this? Do you know just how much I struggle?”

Master Fu frowned. “Lady Noire.”

Her voice wavered, but she thundered on, baring her fangs. “--You’ve put so much responsibility on me that I’m starting to crack, uncle. I can feel it everywhere. My heart, my chest-- I can’t eat-- I can’t sleep-- I’ve done nothing except train myself until I passed out for the past how many weeks, trying to get the feeling out. I’m falling behind in school. My friends ask me where I am. I haven’t seen any of them in weeks. I don’t even know what day it is, uncle.”

Mister Bug’s breath tightened in his lungs.

Her voice cracked, her shoulders sagging. “Plagg says that I’m going to end up in the hospital if this continues. I haven’t done anything for myself in years-- always doing what you’ve asked-- never ever complained or failed you-- and the moment I do something for myself-- I-- I--  _ I lose the one thing that’s important to me.” _

Noire started to cry. She dropped down to her knees on the rug, hardly making any noise with the weight she was at, and held herself tight by the elbows as everything started to crash around her. Her tail froze in place, lifeless, as she continued to curl into herself into the rug, trying to disappear as a black smudge on the floor.

The lights in the room puttered out, leaving only the light from the candles on the table available for them to see.

“You need to go.” Master Fu’s face hardened at Noire’s body. 

Mister Bug shot out of his trance, lifting himself up from the table to try to keep an arm as a barrier between Master Fu and Noire. “What? You-- you can’t-- you can’t  _ send her out--” _

“Stay quiet. I don’t believe I gave you permission to talk.” But he frowned nonetheless up in his direction, gesturing Wayzz to light more candles in the room. “And you are not in the clear either, Mister Bug, so I suggest you sit before I strip you both of your powers as punishment.”

Noire didn’t deserve this. And yet Mister Bug couldn’t find his voice, still tucking Noire’s form behind him as he kept himself as a physical barrier between the two. He wouldn’t let Master Fu do this anymore. What he was doing was wrong. But his lips refused to part, as if Master Fu’s word had been a spell casted onto him.

“N-no. Please.” Noire cried softly into herself, tucking her chin into her chest, wiping hard at her eyes with the back of her hand. She nearly blended into the shadows of the room, almost completely invisible, save for the neon green of her suit, and the green ribbon in her hair. “Please, please don’t make me leave. Please don’t make me go, uncle, please I can’t-- I  _ can’t--” _

Master Fu’s face softened just a smidge as he wiped a hand across his face. “I’ve told you time and time again for the past weeks, Lady Noire, that what you’re doing is incredibly volatile for your miraculous. I have  _ pleaded _ you to stop working yourself to the bone, telling you that this was not good for your health.”

“I know, I know--” Noire curled inter herself harder.

“I have even banned you from the training room. You’ve still found a way to get in. I’ve found you passed out on the mats at early hours in the morning, with Plagg screaming at me to wake you up because you became unconscious to the point where Plagg couldn’t hold you together in the suit.”

“I-- I can’t-- can’t do it, uncle, I can’t--”

“It has gotten to the point where you cannot hold onto the transformation for longer than an hour. You have exhausted yourself, little one. I was  _ not _ the one to ask you to train. I was the one to ask you to go  _ home.” _

How long had she been training? How many hours per day? 

Had she been eating at all? What has happened?

How long has his kitty been tearing apart at the seams?

Why was he too late?

Master Fu quieted, letting Noire’s sobs echo in the room. “But now, hearing Plagg about you needing to go to the hospital has just confirmed it. The cat miraculous was not made for a breakdown, little one. You need to fix your problem, rather than continue to let it fester, or you will cause destruction beyond the unknown. You  _ are  _ breaking. You see it, don’t you? The way your miraculous created currents in the air as you yelled? The way you’ve turned off the lights without realizing it?”

Mister Bug swallowed. The air felt stale again, no more electric energy surging in the space around them. Whatever anger she had must’ve ebbed away in favor of her crying.

“I can’t do it-- please-- I can’t.” Noire continued to sob, curled so tight into a ball that she was a third of her normal size. Mister Bug wanted nothing more than to press her into his chest, to tell her that everything was going to be okay, that they would be able to work through all of it together. He couldn’t deal with seeing her cry so openly, so unabashedly sad. “Please, uncle, please-- don’t make me go away--”

Master Fu sighed as he lifted himself up from his pillow, puttering for his cane so he could walk closer to Noire. He leaned down, gesturing Wayzz to bring a pillow down for his joints, and dropped the cane once he was safely sat down. His hands were gentle when they found one of Noire’s shoulders, the black ball shivering and shaking like leaves in a storm. “People who hold miraculouses must always sacrifice, little one.”

Hold her. Mister Bug wanted to hold her. Please, for his sake. Hold her.

She lunged for Master Fu, wrapping her hands around his neck. “P-please don’t make me. Please. Please, uncle, I can’t do this. Please don’t make me go to him alone. Please don’t make me sacrifice him--”

Her claws grabbed hard for Master Fu’s shirt, tearing holes into the fabric. “It’s okay, little one. It’s okay.”

“--I can’t. I can’t lose Adrien. Please.  _ Please.” _

“You won’t sacrifice him. This is not the sacrifice you will have to make, young lady. I’m not asking you to sacrifice him. I’m asking you to go fix this.”

Her sobs were nearly deaf in Mister Bug’s ears as he listened to her cry.

“Your miraculous was made to break things, young lady. Powerful, yes, your anger makes it so that you taint the air and destroy things. My lights, for example. But this is not what I want you to destroy. Your relationship is not something that you are going to sacrifice.”

“I-I want to h-hide. I want to hide a-and never come out.”

“This isn’t just damaging to your miraculous,” Master Fu pat her back, soothing his hands on her hexleather. Her body racked with shivers. “But  _ yourself _ as well. You are in danger of causing yourself irreparable harm if this continues, and I am asking you to fix it. I can’t bear seeing you like this, Noire. You are hurting so bad that no amount of massage, acupuncture, training, or physical therapy will help you. Your heart is broken, little one, that is why you aren’t holding onto your miraculous well.”

Mister Bug choked on his tongue.

Heart break. Noire was heartbroken.

All he could do was stare and watch, his heart fragmented to the point of no return.

“Uncle--”

Master Fu sighed. “I’m sorry, Lady Noire. I have caused you grief. I have hurt you undoubtedly with my actions, and I will never be able to forgive myself for pushing you too hard for so many years. I mistook your excitement to become a guardian for confirmation that the workload I put you through was adequate, when in reality it was too much. I am proud of you. I am very proud of you. I should have said that. I should have told you. I am sorry.” 

Noire continued to cry.

“I should have said that from the beginning, my dearest. I’m sorry. I should have never caused you this amount of grief.” Master Fu looked up at Mister Bug, who felt rooted to the spot. “But you are causing yourself grief as well with this heart break. You need to fix it. You need to fix your heartbreak. Only then will you feel better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you Friday! No more angst after this chapter, I promise! Unless....?
> 
> Lots of Love,  
> FragileIzy <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... thought today was Friday. Oh my lord.  
> Oh well. I might as well publish this tonight. Why not?
> 
> Enjoy!

Something was wrong.

Something was very, very wrong.

Adrien floundered in his bedsheets, attempting to untwist his ankles from his kicked off blanket, reaching up to pull off his sleep mask. His room was quiet, echoing the noise of his sheets made as he grumbled to himself, everything still as stone. He reached for his watch, for his phone, for the miraculous earrings on the low platform of his bed.

It was two in the morning. His phone confirmed it.

“Tikki?” He cleared his throat, gravely from sleep. There was no answer. “Noire?”

Anxiety built up in his chest, threatening to sever his airflow. Cold air filled his lungs as he gasped, and he pricked his finger hard enough to bleed while trying to poke holes on his pajamas to put his miraculous in. He scanned the room, looking for any sign of life, somewhat concerned that there was nothing.

Noire hadn’t showed up after Master Fu’s place.

Adrien wasn’t sure if it was because she was licking her wounds, or had somehow managed to fall asleep. He worried that she’d ended up in the hospital like Plagg had threatened, but he knew that if he tried calling Master Fu about it he wouldn’t receive an answer. Master Fu wouldn’t bother giving him an answer.

There was nothing in his room.

No sign of Noire barging in for bathroom breaks. No sign of Tikki buzzing up to him asking him if he was okay. Was she still asleep in his underwear drawer? Sleeping peacefully, dreaming of cookies? Maybe he was over reacting. Maybe he was having a panic attack for no real threat that existed. But there was something in his chest that he couldn’t whittle away, the core feeling that there was something horrible, something that he couldn’t shake off.

He missed Noire. He missed her to his very core. Tossing and turning all night only to succumb to a fickle sleep had made him wake up not even an hour later, to an empty room, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t understand why he even kept on trying over and over again to sleep. It was useless. It was pointless.

Adrien looked back to his bathroom door and yelped at the sudden shape of Noire standing in front of it, hitting his head back against the wall. When had-- she-- how did-- he could barely swallow from fear. 

He could make out her vague shape, her staff resting up against her hip. He could see the outline of her mask on her face and the wide slits for her eyes. He strained to see more, but his eyesight refused to focus in the dark.

“Noire? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything. I shouldn’t have tried to find out your identity.” He called to her, relief soaking into his marrow. She was here. He could apologize. He reached his hands up to her, desperate for her to come towards him.

“Adrien.” She closed the bathroom door, and leaned up against it, the shapes of her eyes sharp and narrow. “I know that you lied to me.”

“What?” He tried to get up to meet her halfway, but stumbled, his ankle still caught in the bedsheet. He pulled at the sheet, confused that it wouldn’t let him go. His body moved slowly, like he was pulling himself through fog, something unsettling carving through his stomach. “H-hold on. My foot is stuck.”

“You _ lied _ to me, Adrien.” She paced to the light switch, oblivious to him pulling at his blanket, like she couldn’t hear him. “You lied to me about who you were. You weren’t going to tell me, were you? After telling me that you were starting to figure out who I am, you had the audacity to lie to me about who  _ you  _ were, too?”

Light filtered into the room at the flip of the switch, and Adrien flinched at the sudden brightness. His eyes adjusted slowly to it, pupils closing, and he squinted in the bright light. He collapsed and yelped at the sight of her across the room when his foot caught in the blanket again.

Noire.

No.

No…

_ No... _

Noire’s suit was white. Completely and totally  _ white. _ The color of starched fabric, almost reflective and illuminative, with her normally black braid now the color of her white steel bo staff. Everything about her that had been normally green was now blue, from the details of her mandarin collar to the outline of her gloves, pulsing neon as she growled at him. 

She was the color of frost. Even the ribbon at the end of her braid was blue, and her gaze was as cold as ice when she looked at him. Her eyes narrowed at him, pink lips pulling back to reveal sharper canines, and she snarled at him, opening the bo staff up to her full height, twirling it expertly in her hands. “You  _ lied _ to me.”

He scrambled to get up, finally managing to untie himself. “Kitty? What happened, why are you--”

“No.” Her white domino mask unpinched in the middle, pining him to his spot with a calm look. The sides of the mask were lengthened into a shape of a butterfly. Adrien couldn’t believe his eyes, looking at the akumatized Noire. “Don’t you dare use those petnames on me. You don’t deserve to use different names for things, do you,  _ Mister Bug?” _

Adrien slammed back into the wall behind him when she fisted her bo staff, anxiety making it hard for him to breathe. Oh no. Oh  _ no.  _ “H-hey. Take it easy. T-Talk to me. Noire--”

“Why should I bother doing that?” She snarled at him, her tail flicked heavy behind her. She straightened her feet to pounce. “Why would I bother talking to a fucking  _ liar?” _

“Noire, please-- we can-- we can talk about it. Please. We can fix this, just like Master Fu said.” He looked around him, making sure that his miraculous was on him, before searching the room for Tikki. What had happened to her? Was she okay? Did Noire have her? Would he still be able to transform if she was in Noire’s hands? He made brief eye contact with Noire, before deciding it was time to move away from the wall.

“Don’t play stupid with me. You  _ know _ there’s no fixing this! Look at what you’ve done to me!”

Noire’s bo staff grazed the side of his cheek, cracking through the drywall and out to the outside, tearing through the exposed brick like wet paper. Adrien dropped into a roll in time to miss the second slurry of hexsteel attempting to make its way into his body, and he squeezed his eyes to keep from tears from forming. With every pummel she missed him, she growled louder, slamming down harder and harder, hoping to crack down through bone when she inevitably caught him. 

He crawled to the other side of the sofa with a harsh pant, cringing when Noire screamed loud enough to cast spiderwebs of splintered glass on one of his windows. He wondered, dimly, if anyone in the house had heard the scream. It wasn’t like he could do anything to hide an akumatized super hero.

Adrien’s breathing increased as he pulled himself in closer. He looked under the couch for any sign of his kwami, losing the ability to swallow when there was nothing. Where was Tikki? He couldn’t transform without her. 

God. 

He was going to die. 

He ran from behind the couch as Noire ripped through the fabric with her claws, frost blue eyes shattering him to his very core. His stomach squeezed hard in fear, Adrien trying his hardest not to stumble or vomit.

“Kitty, p-please. Talk to me. Kitty-- I can’t do this.” He couldn’t keep dodging her staff. He wasn’t fast enough. He could only do so much as a civilian, reacting just on his own self preservation skills.

“I’m not your friend!” She growled, teeth sharp enough to cut through steel. “Not anymore. You don’t deserve me. Look at what you’ve done to me: you’ve put me through  _ hell. _ You let me cry in front of you for an entire afternoon, and never bothered to tell me that  _ you  _ were the reason I was crying in the first place!”

He panted. “I couldn’t say anything! M-master-- uh-- your  _ uncle-- _ said he’d take our-- our miraculouses away if I tried to interfere! I know that Plagg is important to you-- I-- I couldn’t-- I couldn’t do that to you!”

She hung her head down to her chest, letting her braid slide across her thin shoulder. “Look at that, Mister Bug is always thinking of others. Always so  _ perfect.  _ Always so kind and considerate and full of  _ bullshit.  _ I’m going to ruin you. I’m not going to give you a choice, now. I’m going to take your miraculous away and use it to destroy  _ everything.” _

“Y-you’re my best friend, Noire. We’re  _ f-friends. _ We can talk about this together. Please. Please, Noire--” He’d go hoarse from his pleas, and his eyes widened as she growled. He watched with rooted feet as she grabbed at the sofa and threw in his direction, the other half of the sofa slamming into the floor with weight. Adrien managed to dodge by a smidge. 

Christ, she was  _ strong.  _

The sofa crashed into his computer behind him, as well as the only light source in the room, sending the lamp tumbling to the floor.

Her frosted eyes went wild as she laughed, and the room cast itself into darkness after a brief flicker. “Are you  _ stupid? _ I never want to see you ever again-- I’m going to kill you. Suffocate you with my own claws if I have to. You deserve everyone you love to desert you. Everyone should know just how much of a fucking failure of a friend you are. You couldn’t even keep  _ me safe from you.” _

Shit. He couldn’t see anything, and Noire’s night vision would make it so that the lighting hadn’t even changed. 

He needed to get out. 

_ Now.  _

He scrambled for the cracked window, jumping over the leftover half of his sofa, eyeing the distance he would have to fall to make it outside. Curse him for being on the second floor of a mansion.

He caught the sight of a pink blurr whizzing in front of him, and he ducked as the second half of the sofa went flying and broke through the remaining windows and down below. Well. At least he wouldn’t have to break through glass to get down. He ducked against the wall just next to the open window, letting Tikki land ontop of his open hand.

He wiped at his face as tears streaked across his cheeks. “T-tikki? Where have you been?”

“She’s not real, Adrien!” Tikki watched Noire scream, getting ready to insert her bo staff through Adrien’s heart.

Adrien panted, readying himself to jump when she threw her staff. Drop and roll with it. Don’t land perfectly on the ankles. Let the momentum carry the weight. “What?”

“She’s not real! That isn’t Noire!”

“She’s been akumatized!” Maybe he could even transform while he jumped so that he could yoyo away from the area, away from his family. He wondered if his dad was alright, if Noire had done any damage around the city when making her way to him.

“No!” Tikki shook her head, pointing hard at Noire. “That isn’t an akumatized Noire at all!”

Adrien frowned as best as he could, his heart in his mouth. “What are you talking about? She’s talking about what happened yesterday--”

“I don’t see Noire at all. She can’t even hear me or see me. It’s false! I only see a ball of fog! I think-- I think it’s a  _ nightmare!  _ I think the akuma is out there infecting everyone with nightmares and making them real! _ ”  _

Fake? The Noire in front of him was fake? “She-- she can’t be fake. She knows too much--”

Adrien stared at the fake Noire, trying to see what she meant, but there was nothing her could recognize as a lie. How could she be so perfect and hit so close to home if she wasn’t real?

Noire hissed at him when they made eye contact, her fist opening to reveal her claws. “You think I’m a fraud? Oh, don’t worry. I’ll prove to you just how real this is.”

He held Tikki tightly in his fist for protection as he pushed through the open window, and hoped that he would be able to transform without anyone seeing him. He swiped his hands on his miraculous earrings, hoping that he could finish transforming before he hit the ground. “Tikki, spots on!”

Mister Bug whipped his yoyo out to pull him from the ground before the last minute, the sound of the string zinging in his ears. Energy from the suit compounded into him, slamming into his anxiety and brewing into his chest to create a ball of claustrophobia. Everything looked brighter and closer with the suit on, and tried not to vomit from the fear closing his throat. 

A nightmare. 

Tikki said it was just a nightmare. 

_ It was just a nightmare. _ The real Noire was safe, according to Tikki.

She didn’t hate him. She didn’t know of the secret. She was safe. He hadn’t lost her.

“Where did you go?” The fake Noire screamed, crunching glass with her white shoes.

He landed hard on the rooftop of his house, scanning around the streets, gasping in surprise at the chaos. The entire city was awake. How had he missed the car alarms going off? How had he missed that  _ dragon?  _ People ran on the streets, trying to escape their own versions of horrible dreams, screaming and howling into the night. 

They were nightmares. 

They were  _ nightmares. _

Tikki was telling the truth.

How had he slept through this akuma? Was the real Noire okay? He looked to the rooftops, hoping to see a black blur running, but there was nothing.

The fake Noire slammed her bo staff into him with a yell, and he blocked with the hard armor plating on his arms. He ducked under another swing, grabbing for her shoulders, grunting when she kicked him across the face with the back of her foot. He saw stars behind his eyelids, and he hissed at the cut inside his mouth when he bit his teeth shut. “You’re not real.”

The fake Noire snapped her teeth, large canines glinting in the night, laughing and sneering. “I guess the gig is up. No, I’m not real. But I’m real enough to make you  _ bleed.” _

He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, his hair obscuring parts of his vision. “You’re not  _ her.” _

Her laughter curdled in his stomach. “Does it matter?”

“I didn’t lose her.” He fisted his hands up in front of him, wrapping his yoyo tight around his wrist.

“I can tell you’re afraid of her turning into this.” The fake Noire gestured to herself, blue diamond eyes sharp, smirk evident on her face. “After all, I wouldn’t have turned into this in front of you if it wasn’t your  _ greatest fear.” _

Greatest fear. Now he already knew what to look forward to if it ever happened. 

He bared his teeth.

“You’re fake. You’re not real. You’ll never be real.” Like a mantra, he cracked his neck and squared his shoulders, more physically and mentally prepared to fight her. He ducked at another tight swing of the staff, and bodyslammed her into the ground, knocking the bo staff out of her hand and sending it careening to the side of the roof. 

They rolled, his spine aching at the contact with cement flooring, hard armor taking the brunt of the blows, and he twisted them so that he could pin her down. He’d fought Noire enough times to know when and where to twist his hips-- to keep his hands high so that she can’t aim for the neck. She clawed at his face instead, drawing more blood from him, blue eyes wild and teeth snapping.

He hissed at the cuts, and blinked hard at the blood that dropped into his eyes. He squeezed his fist closed around her wrists, pinning her claws out of the way. Now what? He couldn’t use lucky charm on this apparition, it wasn’t the actual akuma. He’d be wasting time recharging Tikki if he used the lucky charm.

She bit down into his arm, pearly white teeth disappearing into the thick red plated skin. She was able to bite through the hardest part of his armor-- and it felt like a  _ needle. _ Mister Bug nearly fainted at the thought, the only thing keeping him going was the suit’s energy.

He unrolled his yoyo from his wrist fast enough to hit her in the chest, the yoyo zinging sharply, trying to knock the breath out of her, and she exploded underneath him into smoke with a final scream. He coughed at the white fog that she dissipated into, his eyes searching the roof to see if it was a trick. 

He took harsh breaths, trying to clear the rancid smoke from his lungs, waving at the air in front of him in a panicked fever. He wiped at his face, smearing blood on his cheek and gloves, trying to catch his breath, his eyes hazy in the fog.

Shit. It was okay. Noire was safe. Noire didn’t turn into an akuma. She was okay. There wasn’t anything to fear. No needles. No akumatized Noire. She didn’t know of his secret identity. She didn’t hate him. She  _ didn’t hate him. _

He couldn’t catch his breath for several moments, desperate for his heartbeat to slow down.

He needed to find Noire. And the akuma responsible for starting nightmares around the city. But before all of that, he needed to calm down. He couldn’t do any of it if he couldn’t breathe.

He wiped at his face again, to the cheek where the fake Noire had slashed with her claws. It stung heavy at his contact, smearing the black parts of his hexleather gloves a vibrant red, and his shoulders dropped tiredly. He never wanted to do that again. Even as a fake, Noire was someone he never wanted to fight. He wouldn’t be able to do it. He wouldn’t be able to stand this painful feeling in his chest twice in his life.

He held his face taut to make sure that he wouldn’t vomit over the side of the roof as he looked over to inspect what damage the fake Noire had done to the house.

He pulled at the yoyo string, trying to bring the compact closer. He flipped the compact open when he could finally reach it, breathing erratic and unkind. He checked for the gps feature, hoping that Noire had somehow managed to transform in the middle of the battle. He hoped to god she had.

Or he hoped that she hadn’t gotten affected by the nightmare, and was sleeping soundly. He watched the streets of Paris load on his compact, his eyes painfully searching for a green pawprint to show up somewhere on the map.

Worry pooled to his chest. Was she okay? Had she succumbed to her nightmare, letting it corrupt her and render her unable to move? What if her nightmare had been as violent as his, and she hadn’t moved out of the way of a flying couch fast enough?

No. Noire was strong. She wouldn’t fall into despair so easily. She was capable, and funny, and sweet and kind-- who had a knack for organizing every single drawer or cabinet in her vicinity, who refused to let a storage system go unchecked. She was kind, and considerate, who brought cookies to patrols to share while they sat in front of Sacre-Coeur, who asked him about his day. She was intelligent, and quick witted, and even  _ if _ her nightmare was the most terrifying thing in the world, Noire would never falter and let it corrupt her.

This was all his fault. He shouldn’t have asked. He should’ve left it alone. It had been Noire’s idea to keep the identities a secret. He  _ shouldn’t have asked. _

He wished his compact could load faster.

“Come on, come on. Please.  _ Please.” _ Mister Bug murmured to the empty map, pushing stray hairs out of his eyes. She could be anywhere in the city. He wouldn’t even know where to begin to look, much less who to look  _ for, _ if she hadn’t transformed. Who could he contact? Master Fu? What if the guardian was also succumbed to this akuma? What then? Where would he start to look for her?

The compact dinged with a confirmed pawprint, the most joyous sound he’d ever heard. Mister Bug sagged with relief, laughter giddy and small in his chest. She was on a street that he didn’t recognize, but she was there-- she was  _ there-- _ alive and sound and not akumatized. He needed to make sure she was okay. He pinned her pawprint onto the screen, making sure to keep an eye on the compact as he ran across rooftops, making his way to the Notre Dame.

* * *

“--Please. Please. Make it stop. You don’t mean it. Y-you don’t. I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.” Mister Bug slammed down next to a chimney, tightening his grip on his yoyo, peering down to an alleyway to hear Noire gasping. He couldn’t see her, with the maze of alleyways leading to each direction. He needed to find her. His compact wouldn’t tell him just how close he was. He dropped to the closest alleyway, and searched for them, using only their voices.

“Did you just transform to try to get away from me? You’re pathetic. Look at you, cowering against the wall like the little kid you are. You’re so stupid, thinking you could get away from me just because you put on a suit.” He couldn’t see where the other voice was either, but he recognized that voice all too well. He scanned the area for any new fake Noires, wary of his corners for her showing up. He hoped he wouldn’t have to fight two fogs. “I’m going to tell everyone. Everyone will know that Paris’s second-favorite superhero is just  _ you.” _

“Please. You don’t mean it. I know you don’t.” His Noire’s voice wavered, and he could picture her eyes watering more and more by the second. She gasped again. “Adrien, p-please.”

Of course. Of  _ course _ it was him. How could he have been so stupid? Mister Bug tried calling out, tried calling Noire’s name, that he was  _ here, _ that the Adrien in front of her was  _ fake,  _ but nothing of a voice came through from his closed throat. He breathed hard, trying to think of a solution, running wildly in the direction he thought the voices were coming from. He couldn’t call out lucky charm if he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t help Noire to stop crying if he couldn’t yell out her name.

“You’re the stupidest girl I’ve ever met. You think I wouldn’t find out who you really are? That you’re nothing more than a girl who thought she could get away with trying to trying to be my best friend? I should’ve ripped that ring off of you when you were at my house. I shouldn’t have even bothered becoming your friend.”

“--Adrien--”

“I hate you. I fucking  _ hate _ you.”

“You’re wrong.” She cried, and Mister Bug tripped over something he couldn’t see. Where was she? Where  _ was she?  _ “Y-you’re wrong. You’re m-my best friend. You don’t hate me. You can’t hate me. I can’t lose you. Please.  _ Please.” _

“I wish we’d never met. I wish you had never saved me from an akuma, and decided to pester me until I got bored of you.” The voice paused. “Did you know that? That I’m  _ bored  _ of you? That you’re  _ worthless?  _ I’m going to ruin you. I’m going to tell everyone about you. Especially now that I know who’s under that mask. You used me. You  _ used me.” _

“N-no, I didn’t-- I don’t know what you’re-- t-talking about-- please--”

“You ran away from me because you knew that you were lying to me about your identity, didn’t you? Because you realized that I would hate you if I knew who you were?”

“I--”

“You were right. I  _ do _ hate you. You’re nothing to me. You’ve only ever been the second favorite in everything, haven’t you? I didn’t know why I never noticed how much of a fraud you are until I realized who you were under that suit. How could you? How could you lie to me, Noire?”

“Stop it! Stop lying! You’re my best friend-- I  _ love you--” _

_ “Love me? _ Are you stupid? You’re nothing more than a little girl. I was right to treat you like a fucking child, to treat you like the worthless shit you are. Who would ever love a lying bitch like you?”

Mister Bug slammed into a body hard enough to throw them against the wall. The voice grunted, their head slamming into stone. A fist flew into Mister Bug’s face, and he winced, completely out of advantage not being able to see in the dark like Noire could. He heard her scramble against the wall she was backed up to, away from the fog Adrien and him. “M-mister Bug?”

She was okay. She could speak. She was close.

“N-noire? Where are you? Are you okay?” He looked around. He couldn’t see her.

He flinched into himself when he heard her bo staff open, and one of the butt ends grind against a stone wall as she presumably stopped the fake Adrien from coming over to their side of the alley. She touched his wrist, knowing that he was close by, sniffling hard. “Y-you’ll hurt him, Mister Bug, he’s just a human-- I don’t know what’s going on with him but Adrien is--”

“Adrien is not real.” Mister Bug turned to her voice, trying to keep his ears open as much as possible to locate where the fake Adrien was. The Adrien growled, similar to the noise the fake Noire had made, and a slurry of punches made its way across Mister Bug’s face. He blocked them with the hard sides of his armor, swinging his head down so that the fake Adrien missed.

_ “What?” _

He needed to get his yoyo out and hit him in the chest like he had with the fake Noire. But how was he going to do that when he couldn’t see where Adrien was? “Noire, you have to hit him in the chest with your staff. Hard.”

“H-hard? How hard?”

“Like you’re knocking down a building.”

“Are-- are you kidding me? That’ll kill him!”

“That’s kind of the point!” Mister Bug bared his teeth, hating that he couldn’t see anything.

“I’m not-- I can’t-- that’ll  _ kill _ him!”

“He’s not real! He’s fake. Trust me!”

“But-- I  _ do-- _ but--”

“There’s an akuma out here who’s making nightmares and--” Noire pulled his arm to get him out of the way of something. Her bo staff clashed loudly with something else metal, and Mister Bug could only keep his hands up to his face, hoping that he wasn’t going to be attacked or flanked.

“There’s  _ two?  _ What is-- oh my god. Is that-- holy shit.  _ Me?” _ Shit. Shit.  _ Shit. _

He swung his yoyo into a circle, keeping his front secure as possible, eyes wide and trying to take in as much light from outside the alley as possible. Their best bet would be to get up on the roof where they could both see.

He shot his yoyo up. “Climb up, I can’t be any use if I don’t see.”

“What? Have you been fighting in the dark this  _ entire time?” _ If she had the time to argue with him, then Noire was safe enough to fight. She followed behind him, extending her bo staff to a taller height limit, tumbling onto the roof with two more people nipping at her tail.

He eyed the Adrien that fell off of the fake Noire’s back, trying to assess what special tricks he had. He’d managed to hit him with punches, and the punches were  _ strong. _ If it wasn’t for the suit, it was likely that he would’ve broken his nose. Just how much damage could a fake version of himself in jeans do?

The fake Noire eyed him with with bored, frosted eyes. “You don’t look that afraid of me anymore.”

“Once I learned that you’re fake, there’s kind of nothing to fear about you.” He whipped his yoyo into a loop, keeping the two fogs away from him and his Noire as far as possible. She kept her bo staff behind her extended, trying to decide which bad guy to tackle first.

“Oh, really?” The fake Noire leaned into a hip, smirk pulling against her wide lips. “I don’t think you still believe that.”

No. He didn’t. 

His hands were shaking. It was evident by the way his yoyo spun, the normally perfect circle jagged and uneven on all sides. The akumatized Noire was something he could never unsee. What she said to him was something he couldn’t unhear. Unsettling, and painful, it made his chest hurt. Her words had cut him so thinly to the core. And just where was this akuma? 

Were they going to spend an hour here, exhaust their special moves, just to get ambushed again? He couldn’t use his lucky charm. And Cataclysm would be useless here. He slowed down his yoyo, keeping an eye on the fake Adrien, watching the mirror image of himself move forward.

His Noire got to him faster. She turned her bo staff into a wide arc, a black blurr as she whipped and ducked. The fake Adrien tumbled from it, centimeters away every time from meeting his fate with the back end of her staff. 

The roof tile cracked into little pieces when she aimed for the fake Adrien’s calf, missing by fractions. He’d been on the receiving side of Noire’s hits now-- even if she was a fake-- and he knew just how fast Noire was moving. Her staff created a light draft as she whipped it into circles as she fought, her shoulders squared and hits heavy.

Adrien was getting slower. And Noire was just getting bolder.

Mister Bug stepped in to help, looping his yoyo into tall figure eights, but stopped short when Noire glanced back at him with a knowing look. She didn’t want any help. Not yet. Instead, he blocked her side, keeping so that the fake Noire would either have to pay attention to him, or somehow get through his shield.

The fake Noire opened her white bo staff, done watching on the sidelines, her tail lashing violently. White steel met black as the fake Adrien’s heart was blocked by the gracious help of the fake Noire, and she pushed him to the side with clawed hands, taking his place.

Focus. Adrien was coming at him.

Normally not much of a challenge, Mister Bug was glad when he braced himself for the body slam. He expected it. He snapped his yoyo closer, and looped it into a lasso, tightening it around Adrien’s body. He pushed Adrien into the wall, hearing the crack of his skull. If he exploded Adrien now and if another fog from the streets caught sight of him or his Noire, they would try to join the party again. He needed to keep this Adrien alive for as long as possible.

He tied the lassoed Adrien to the closest chimney, pulling the string as tight as he could against his squirming. He stared at Adrien, unimpressed. “You know, you look off from the real Adrien. Your nose looks weird.”

“Fuck you.”

“Hey. Language, buddy. You know your dad hates that.” Mister Bug thought about it for a moment, before deciding to shrug to himself. “Actually, you know what? Have at it. That’s hilarious.”

He kept a tight leash on Adrien, wishing he could help Noire. He watched her wide arcs, the way that she spun the staff in her hands to guard herself. This was the first time he’d watch her go against someone who also fought with a staff, and he could barely keep up, the clinging noise of their staffs echoing through the alleyways. He thought Noire fighting with  _ Adrien _ had been fast? 

“Sorry. But you’re not getting through me. You picked the wrong day for this.” Noire’s ears flattened against her head as she pulled back, trying to catch her breath, tucking her staff under her arm. The fake Noire held onto the ball of her shoulder with her empty hand, panting silently. She must have gotten hit during the slurry of his Noire’s attacks.

“I don’t think I have to.” Bored frosted eyes looked up to Mister Bug, to the way his hands continued to shake and twitch. “I’ve already gotten through to the person that I’m supposed to. Didn’t I,  _ Bugaboo?” _

Mister Bug frowned at himself, fisting his hands beside his body.

“You’re going to let this little girl fight the fight for you?” Adrien voiced loudly, over the sound of the two Noires panting. His Noire looked back towards them, diamond green eyes flashing in hurt.

Mister Bug tightened the yoyo even more. “Nevermind. No more talking. Shut up.”

His Noire glanced back to him, then to the Adrien, before making up her mind of something. He recognized a thought process pinging in her head, even as her eyes watered in a held-back cry. Ah. It was as if she’d sent her entire plan telepathically, and he nodded towards her, preparing his grip on his yoyo. 

She whipped her head back to the akumatized Noire, green ribbon flying, and with a grunt she extended her staff to be longer, faking that she was going to hit her opponent. Instead, she slammed it back into Adrien’s chest with a watered grunt, just like Mister Bug had asked her to in the beginning. 

Fake rib bones cracked, along with the real brick of the chimney behind them, the staff going straight clean through the brick. Adrien dissolved into dust with a breathless cough, sending white smoke billowing around them, the chimney bricks shattering and dissolving into pieces. Mister Bug coughed from the dust entering his nose, his yoyo now slack in his hand, and he tried to clear the air with a hand.

“Now! In front of you!” A Noire called, and he shot out his yoyo as hard as he could, the yoyo string zinging sharply, and exploded another fog ball into the air. He coughed and wheezed, dropping to his knees to escape the gas, blind to his surroundings. The fog tried entering his lungs, and he coughed harder, his hands searching for Noire’s blindly. 

She found his, light touches against the sides of his shoulders, attempting to get him to stand up, and made a noise of confusion as he grabbed her. He sagged against her, pulling her close enough to mold them together, tucking her head below his chin. “Thank god. Thank god. Oh god.”

“What--”

“I-- oh my god.” Mister Bug held her tighter. A normal person would’ve crushed their clavicle bones into tiny little pieces being held into his armor so harshly, so tightly, so exasperatedly. “Holy shit. I was so scared. I thought you-- that I-- that  _ Hawkmoth--” _

Noire’s claws scrabbled against his suit, the only thing her hexsteel claws couldn’t break through. “Bugaboy, it’s okay, I’m okay--”

“Yes. You’re safe. You’re  _ safe. _ I fought that Noire by myself. I thought it was you. A-and I fought it as a  _ civilian. _ Please, dear god. That was impossible. Oh my god. I was going to die. The only way I got out was because I transformed. Tikki--” He couldn’t stop himself from blabbering, eyes watering hard. The parisian skyline blurred hazy in his vision. “Tikki told me that the Noire I saw was a fake, that she couldn’t see anything, that it was a nightmare and there wasn’t anything and that it wasn’t you-- and I thought-- I  _ thought--” _

She held him while he sobbed, her thin shoulders the only thing supporting his own weight. She squeezed him tight enough to crack ribs. The ball of anxiety in his chest was disappearing with her in his arms. He cried for a long moment, desperation pungent enough to make him just want to sit there and hold her close for the rest of time. He wouldn’t be able to take it. He wouldn’t be able to take her turning into an akuma. He never wanted to experience that again. Ever. Again.

His mouth felt full of gravel. “None of it was real. None of it. Nothing they said. Nothing that the Noire said. Nothing that Adrien said.”

He released her finally just enough to see her eyes watering too, mask pinched in the middle. “I’m sorry-- I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

“No, you didn’t--”

Her hexleather ears drooped. “I did. I should’ve gone to him after Master Fu, I shouldn’t had let this fester. He wouldn’t have been my nightmare if I had just talked to him about it--”

“Noire,”

She sagged. “I thought he was real. I thought he’d shown up at my house, and snuck into my room. He was screaming at me, yelling at me for not telling him who I was, yelling at me for lying--”

Mister Bug sagged, wiping at the tears on her face with his gloved thumbs. “None of it was real. He would never do this. I--”

“I need to talk to him.”

“Noire? I need to--”

“I-- I know.” Noire’s eyes squeezed shut, her frown pulling at her lips. “I know what you’re doing to say. I know that Adrien is kind hearted and wouldn’t call me names, and that I need to just talk to him. I know that so well. He-- he never would do that to me. He would never get angry at me for keeping my secret.”

No. He never would. Even if he never found out Noire’s identity, he would never treat her like a child, or a liar. She wanted to keep her identity hidden from him, and he respected it. He would never treat her less for wanting to keep something private. And he would never treat her the way that fog Adrien had when he had inevitably found out her secret.

“Yes, but--”

“I kept begging Adrien to talk to me--” Noire sucked in a breath, diamond green eyes glassy as she relived through the moment. “I kept-- I kept  _ begging-- _ but he-- he wouldn’t-- he refused--”

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” He hugged her tight back into his armor, letting her soft sobs echo into his chest. “None of it was real. It’s okay. It’s not real.”

Her tears kept falling, but she nodded violently, knowing that he was right. “I’m going to have to ask him. I need to ask him. I’m going to his house immediately after the fight.”

“Noire, please, I want you to listen to me--”

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m tired of listening to others. I’m tired of listening to what people have to say about my life-- I need to do this my way. I don’t want any more advice or life teachings from Master Fu, I need to do it. I can’t live without him. I’m going to go crazy if I don’t try it to do my way.”

“But--” 

“But first w-what akuma--  _ is _ this?”

He sighed. “A nightmare akuma. I don’t know what their name is.” 

She looked at him critically. “How did you figure it out?”

“I’ve been on the run from that akumatized version of you since I woke up. Tikki made me realize that she couldn’t see the fake akumatized you, and saw fog instead.” He was never more thankful in his life to be able to smell the coconut oil in her hair. He rested his cheek back up against her head, but flinched when it made contact with his cut cheek.

She peeled back in horror, finally looking and realizing his bleeding skin, blinking hard against the tears that were still in her eyes. “Wh-- what happened to your--”

He smiled weakly, somehow feeling self conscious. “Akumatized you. I’m so glad I found you in time.” 

“Oh-- oh my god. We have to get that fixed, you look like a zombie.” She sniffled, wiping at her large green eyes. He shook his head, hushing her silently when she protested, holding her face in between his hands. He watched as her diamond pupils dilated into circles, then shrank, searching his face for answers. “Wh--”

“Promise me.  _ Promise me. _ That you will never turn into an akuma. Please.  _ Please _ promise me.” He searched into the glittering green abyss of her eyes.

“I-- yes-- I promise.” Her domino mask pinched in the middle. “I’ll never turn into an akuma. I promise I won’t. There’s nothing to fear. It isn’t real. Whatever she said-- whatever she  _ did-- _ or threatened-- it wasn’t me. I don’t agree with it.”

He crushed her back into his chest, a slow breath escaping through his lips. “I won’t be able to fight you if it happens. I couldn’t do it. Please. Please don’t do it.”

* * *

He wasn’t as graceful as Noire was when trying to vault himself into his window.

The schematics were the same, he assumed. Get close enough to the window ledge to push the window in. Climb through the window that was open. Close the window. Mister Bug struggled always to locate a good leverage point to just swing into an open window. He never had the ability to just extend a baton high enough to what he needed to reach. He always had to get creative with it.

It reminded him a bit of pole vaulting. Except he was not a professional vaulter, he had no pole to vault with, and he really couldn’t touch the bar if he wanted to not get stuck on a window ledge. He managed to find the arm rig of a camera-- a camera that faced exactly the wrong way from his window area, instead pointing to the garden path below to look for any intruders-- and slung his yoyo over it. 

It always worried him one day that the arm rig would snap from under his weight, especially since he weighed more when covered in hard hexleather. So far it hadn’t given up on him, and he felt incredibly lucky for it. With a short tug, the yoyo attempted to recoil the string back into the compact, and Mister Bug shot up high enough to reach the smallest partition of his window, where Noire frequently crawled through.

He ducked and rolled when he got into his room, allowing the yoyo to sing and clash when scraping against the metal of the arm rig, expertly slinging the yoyo around his wrist where he left it whenever it wasn’t in use.

His miraculous beeped harshly one last final time on the black part of his long collar, before the suit dissolved completely off his skin. Adrien sighed as the beautiful saturation of colors in his vision dimmed, going back to normal eyesight, leaving him in the pitch black dark. He rubbed a tired hand across his face, cupping his hand out into the air to leave a place for Tikki to perch on.

“That sucked.” He groaned into his hand when Tikki landed.

“Is everything okay, Adrien?” He glanced up to his kwami, who yawned quietly.

He sighed, a tired smile on his face. It felt fake and dusty, just like he did. “Everything’s good. Thanks, Tee. You really helped me out in that fight.”

“I’m glad I got to you in time.” Tikki rubbed at her watering eyes. He walked her to her favorite drawer, tucking her in between two unfolded pairs of socks.

He rubbed the top of her head, petting her long whiskers. “Take a nap, I’ll get you something to eat. I’ll wake you up in a couple of hours to make sure you’re okay. We did a lot more work than normal for this akuma, and I want to make sure that none of the cataclysms or lucky charms ended up hurting you somehow.”

“What about you? What are you going to do? Adrien… you need to try to sleep. You can’t keep worrying about Noire forever.” Tikki blinked slowly, her eyes getting heavier and heavier to keep open.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight. Especially after this akuma.” He answered honestly, looking to his watch that blinked the time.

“Did the miraculous cure not work?”

He tried smiling. “Physically, yes. All the bruises I got during the fight are pretty much healed up. Psychologically or emotionally though, I don’t know.”

“It’s going to be okay, Adrien. I promise.”

He tucked the drawer back in when Tikki’s breathing slowed, giving her one last head rub. The silence in his room was too loud.

Everything in his room was back into place, his couch magically fixed back into one piece. He looked to the windows that were magically unshattered, or his bed that wasn’t cracked down the middle. The bedsheets were perfectly made up, as if Adrien hadn’t spent eight hours tossing and turning uselessly in it. His computer monitors were fine. The lamp looked like it hadn’t been touched. The miraculous cure worked, well, miraculously. A perfect illusion of perfection.

It made him feel sick.

Adrien couldn’t make himself sit on the couch or his bed, feeling too ashy and awake. He sat on the floor in front of the couch, instead, counting the swirling patterns his eyes created when he tried forcing himself to be able to see in the dark. He curled into himself, tucking his knee under his chin, leaning his back into the couch, trying to get the loud silence to stop.

It was always so silent in this house.

It was so silent to the point it hurt.

Noire had been his life and noise. He felt like a ghost in his own house.

He could just barely fit between the gap that the coffee table and the couch created, his legs being too long for him. He thumbed his miraculous attached to his shirt collar, pinching his eyebrows closer together hard as he tried not to cry or think about what had happened. Noire and Mister Bug had split off to go home, going in their own separate directions. 

It pained to watch her go and leave. He wanted to tell her. He  _ needed _ to tell her.

But she’d left before he could, spouting that she wanted to do this  _ her _ way, and that she didn’t need advice or tips. She had no idea what he wanted to say.

He wasn’t going to be okay with the night’s events for a long, long time. No matter how hard he tried to stop thinking about what happened, it resurfaced into his head, dragging him down and making him spiral into thoughts that made him feel like he was drowning. Adrien sagged against his knee, staring into the wall with nothing but jumbled thoughts in his head.

His head snapped to the noise coming from the window, the creaking noise of the window opening.

Noire climbed through with little to no grace, her feet squeaking against the glass as she tried to leverage herself through the frame. He watched silently as she struggled, offering no help or advice, watching her plaited hair tumble over her shoulder, wondering to himself if he’d started to hallucinate. With one last push, Noire slinged off the ledge enough to let her hips through, and then her thighs, and she struggled to open her staff in time so that she wouldn’t land on her face.

She breathed hard when she landed, collapsing the staff back to its proper location on the side of her hip. They stared at each other, in the dark, listening to Noire’s miraculous beep out warnings. Adrien’s body felt sluggish and small, exhaustion on every part of his muscles.

But she was here.

He could fly, if she wanted him to.

“Adrien?” Noire tried, reaching out to him, tail flicking slowly.

He attempted a smile. “Hey, little kitty.”

“Can I--” She stopped her hands from twitching, her ears squishing up against her head. “C-can I--”

“Come here.” He raised his hands up. Tiredly pleading. He let tears well up at the sides of his eyes. “Please.  _ Please.  _ Please come here.”

Noire collapsed ontop of him with a cry. She slotted herself on top of him, legs twisting with his, crying into his ear and shoulder. Her hands held him with a gentleness that paradoxically seemed aggressive, as if he knew that all she wanted to do was sink her fingers into the knots at his shoulders as she wept. 

He crushed her as tight as he could allow his fatigued muscles to do so, knowing that the suit would protect her from it, and he shook with her as they cried. He carded his fingers through her hair to hold her at the scalp, clutching her, squeezing his eyes closed, letting tears fall down his face too.

“It’s okay.” He spoke into her shoulder, letting his voice crack and splinter. “It’s okay.”

Noire shuddered. “It was you. You were my nightmare. The akuma-- he-- I saw you--”

“And it was just a nightmare.” He let her adjust her hips as she cried, sucking in his own breath. “It wasn’t real. None of it was real.”

_ “--Adrien--” _

“It’s okay.” He repeated, taking a sob of his own. “You’re--  _ it’s-- _ okay. We’re okay. We’re okay. Nothing will hurt you.”

Her thin shoulders shook as she cried, her miraculous beeping again. “--and you said-- and I-- that I-- you called me  _ names-- _ told me that I was a  _ liar--” _

“I will never call you a liar, Noire. Understand?”

She was safe here. She would always be safe here. What he had done was wrong. She pulled back from holding him tight by the neck, hands flexing against his shoulders. “You told me that you-- that you--  _ hated _ me. You told me that you found out who was under the suit and y-you realized you hated me for it. I was so scared.”

He wiped at the tears away from her domino mask. “I’ll never hate you. I’m sorry, Noire. I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t-- I shouldn’t have-- put you on the spot like that. What I did was wrong. I will  _ never _ hate you for keeping your identity safe from me. Me finding Plagg on purpose was wrong. I am so sorry. I didn’t take into consideration your feelings when I did it, and I’ve been dealing with the guilt since you’ve left. You’re my best friend, Lady Noire, and I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

She let him collect her tears as she nodded to his words. Brief lapses would go by where they wouldn’t cry, and he wondered if they had cried everything out, before one of them delved back into sobbing, starting a domino effect. 

He could do nothing but hold her, rub the side of his cheek onto the top of her head, and continue squeezing her, restating what he had previously said before, watching her tail swish fluidly in the little space left between the couch and the coffee table.

He would never hate Noire for hiding her identity from him. Even if it came down to if he knew her civilian identity, he wouldn’t be upset. This was her wish to be anonymous, and he would never fault her for it. He should’ve been more aware.

That fake Adrien that had attacked her had been nothing more than a nightmare.

“P-please don’t leave me.”

“I won’t.” Adrien sighed into her hair, his heart and lungs empty and painful. “I promise I won’t.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-- I didn’t mean to leave you. I didn’t mean to run away--”

“It’s okay.”

“I got scared-- I g-got so scared-- I’m so sorry-- please don’t leave me. I got so scared that if you found out who I was, you wouldn’t want to be my friend anymore. Please d-don’t leave me.”

“Why would I leave you if that happened, Kitty?”

“Because I’m not good enough-- because I’m not everything I should be. Because I’m just  _ me _ under the suit, not-- not anything special.”

“Kitty, that’s not true.”

“Please don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me because I’m not good enough. I-- I don’t know what I’d d-do if you did.”

“Hey, hey. It won’t happen. I’ll never leave you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s  _ okay. _ Breathe.” She smelled of coconut oil, he realized with a breathless laugh, wiping at his own eye. “I’ll be right here as long as you promise me to never leave me either.”

“Never again. I’m never leaving you ever again. I’m so sorry.” She crashed into him for the second time, pulling at his shirt, trying to sink into his warmth. He held her tight enough to feel her ribs push into his as she breathed.

“Breathe first and relax and we can talk about why you left.” He murmured into her hair. “But I don’t want you to pass out on me because you’re not focusing on breathing.”

“I’m sorry.” She sighed. “I’m in a really fragile state right now.”

The beeping of her miraculous was incessant in his left ear, and he frowned into the empty darkness. “Kitty, your miraculous is going to come undone.” 

“It’s too dark in here for you to see, right?”

“--Kitty--”

“Please let me stay. Just for a little while longer. I don’t want to move away from you-- I’ve missed you so much.” Her voice sounded so soft against his collarbones as she curled up against him, fingertips weak against his chest over his heartbeat.

He wiped a stray tear from her eyes. “Do you want me to get the cheese for you?”

She shook her head. “Not right now. Please let me stay for a little longer. Please.”

How would he ever get the heart ot try to push her away? How would he ever be that heartless to make her go away? He kissed the hexleather ear closest to him. “Stay for as long as you’re comfortable with. I won’t ever push you out. I promise. I missed you, too.”

She nodded, and she twisted her hips so that she could sit beside him, still keeping their legs twisted together. She let her ring shine above them as she held it up to look at the blinking paw pads on her miraculous, and they watched the miraculous beep harshly for a final time before exploding into light. Adrien looked away from her as her suit faded off her skin, the hexleather that touched him fading away. The bright green light dispersed, revealing nothing but pitch black in the room.

Adrien blinked hard in the dark, searching for her hands. He smiled softly in her direction once small fingers found his, knowing that she couldn’t see his face anymore. Real life skin met his, shaking, and small-- soft and tender touches to the point of making his eyes water again. “Hey.”

“Hi.” She whispered back, taking his hands with her as she wiped at her face with the back of her wrist.

“Hey, Princess. Are you okay?” Plagg’s voice called from somewhere behind her. He sounded tired, and exhausted, to which Adrien couldn’t blame him. The fight had taken so much of their energy out, he was certain that Plagg wanted nothing more than to sit down and sleep for a long while.

Noire turned to him. “Yeah, I’m okay, Plagg. I’m-- I’m okay with this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I promise, little chef.”

Adrien could feel a wet smile pulling at his lips. “‘Little chef’?”

“We watched Ratatouille together when I was trying to make her feel better,” Plagg sounded amused. “She likes calling me little chef now.”

Noire’s laughter was perfect in the way it was hoarse from crying, and she wiped at her face with their conjoined hands. “It fits. You’re apparently a rat, according to some. Isn’t that right?”

“Speaking of food and things, can you make it to the kitchen without being seen?” Adrien faced in what he assumed was the correct direction to look at Plagg. “There’s more camembert in the house now. Do you remember the way to it? Or do you want me to take you there?”

Plagg tsked. “I’m sure I can figure it out. Not the first time I’ve been told to go sneaking in the dark.”

“Please don’t get lost, okay?”

“No promises, Princess.” Plagg laughed nasally then, as if it was the only thing he was known for. He whizzed near Adrien’s ears like a mosquito, plopping himself onto his head. “But before I go, hold on. I’ve always wanted to see how soft this guy’s hair is.”

“A-are you on my head?” He reached up to try to grab Plagg, who continued to laugh.

“Awh, Princess, you picked a cute one.”

“Plagg.” He could feel the way Noire’s eyes rolled. “How are you tired and yet still talking? Everytime we’re done with akumas you flop onto my bed and pretend that you can’t even lift a finger.”

“I’m an enigma.”

“So you’re telling me I  _ don’t _ need to massage your back every time we come home, in order for you be able to fly around?”

“Nah, those are great. I need those.” He patted down Adrien’s hair. He worried suddenly that if Plagg pulled on one of his locks, his arms would magically move. “You know, gets the knots out of my back and whatever.”

“Or sing you to sleep, so that you sleep better?”

“Oh, but your singing voice is beautiful, Princess.”

Noire’s voice twinkled. “Or tuck you in onto my pillow with the little blanket I made for you?”

“Now you’re just making me sound like a hedonist.” Plagg yawned. “Maybe I should forgo the cheese and just go to bed.”

“You can go to the sock drawer, if you want somewhere to sleep.” Adrien hoped Plagg understood what he meant. He remembered Plagg saying that he had missed Tikki, back when Noire had first de-transformed to go to the bathroom all those months ago. “It’s the second drawer in my dresser.”

Plagg thought about it for a long moment, enough time to make Adrien shuffle in his seat on the floor, his butt going numb. It wasn’t often he sat on the floor for no reason. Plagg lifted off his head. “Actually, I change my mind. I’ll get the cheese first. But thanks, kid. I hope your socks are more comfortable than her’s.”

“Stay safe. Don’t talk to other people, please.” Noire laughed at something Adrien couldn’t see, but he liked to imagine that Plagg was patting her on the head, or something of the sort.

The room went quiet for a moment, as they waited for any response from Plagg, but there was nothing left in the room besides them. It dawned on him, then, that Noire was in his room completely trusting him to not turn on a light to look. Adrien tried not to hit his head back into the couch at the idea of her trusting him enough to be comfortable and content to be with him sitting on his floor. At night. Early morning, even. With their usual relationship turned sideways. And upside down.

Noire reached for his hands again, fitting her thin fingers in between his. He smiled into the dark. “Do you think we’re alone?”

“I hope so.” There was a smile in her voice. “I just want it to be us, for a little while.”

“We have all night.” Adrien cringed, remembering the time. “Or. Well. We have the rest of the night.”

“What time is it, even?” How was she so warm? He could feel the entire line of her body lined up with his, from his knees up to his shoulder, an entire wall of heat. She was wearing socks of some kind, he could hear her rubbing her feet against the hardwood to find a better seating position. Her butt was probably going numb, too.

It took a bit of time for him to think about it. “I think it’s three? That’s what the time was around everything in my room was fixed, and I checked the time.”

“We’re going to be so tired tomorrow. Today.” Her shoulder shrugged into his arm, and he was all the more hyper aware of her.

“Some of us have plane trips to take, after all.” He chuckled. “My field trip is tomorrow. Today.”

“Are you going to give the scarf to the girl you like, tomorrow? Today?” She sighed. “Today. Let’s just call it today.”

“I’m not sure. I don’t want to think about it right now, I’ll be honest. I’d rather just spend time with you.”

Her laughter came easy for her, breathless, as she rubbed her arms from the cold in his room. “I’d rather just spend time with you, too.”

“I’ve missed you.” He spoke into the hand that linked with his, kissing the back of her palm.

“I’ve missed you so much, sunshine.” Her voice caught on something as her fingers touched his wrist. “Oh. You’re-- you’re wearing the bracelet?”

He glanced down to their hands, as if he could see it in the dark. “I-- yeah. I’ve been wearing it ever since you left it here… I… I wanted you to see me wear it.”

“I spent a long time making it,” She confessed, “It’d been such a long time since I had to make it for my uncle’s shop. He sells them as good luck charms, but it has to be made with care in order for it to work. I have one that matches yours but in silver.”

“I didn’t know you used to make them when you were younger.” The beads of the bracelet clinked together as she continued to play with it, and he smiled to himself. Noire was never quite satisfied staying still without fidgeting with something or the other. “But, thank you. I couldn’t take it off, you were so important to me.”

“It’s a gift, you don’t need to thank me.” She clacked her teeth as a sudden shiver went through her. “Oh, oh wow, I think I’m losing body heat.”

“Come here.” He tried not to choke when he reached for her wrist and found bare skin, but failed to when the bulk of his arm wrapped around her, only to feel a tank top. She was real. Noire was  _ real.  _ Alive, real, in front of him-- this couldn’t possibly be a dream. “I want a better hug, and you’re freezing.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” She reached over in an instant, piling herself ontop of him once more. He  _ oofed! _ in response, tucking her tightly into his shoulder. Her skin smelled faint of lemon oil, something he’d missed the first time when they’d embraced.

He carded his fingers through her hair, and surprised himself at how short it actually was. He made it to about her shoulderblades before his hands slipped out of her hair, and what surprised him the most was the luxurious softness. “Noire-- Y-your hair?”

“Oh! Yeah, the transformation makes it longer. I wish I had that hair that long, but I always end up getting impulsive with my haircuts.” She sighed happily. Finally, almost like her wishes had come true, she used her blunt nails to trace patterns at the back of his skull, using her other hand to smooth out the back of his shirt. He shivered at her touch. “Oh, this is much better. I can actually feel your skin, wow. This is so nice.”

“I agree.” He chuckled, still a bit hollow, trying to get his body to stop creating goosebumps. “I like being able to hug you without fear of getting bit.”

“Don’t push it, I might just go back to basics and take a nip at you.”

“You don’t even have fangs.”

“The fangs aren’t the important part. It’s the biting itself.”

Their laughter was contagious. They laughed into each other’s shoulders so warmly that Adrien never wanted to let her go. Noire was in his arms. Whoever Noire was underneath the mask, she trusted him enough to stay content in his arms and not worry about him being able to see her. His body could sing, filled with butterflies.

“Noire, I’m sorry,” He spoke into the quietness in the room.

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have run away.”

“I shouldn’t have made you scared.”

She sighed. “It wasn’t your fault, sunshine. I did it to myself. You know, I was eight years old when I found out that the miraculouses existed.”

“What--”

“Stick with me here, I have a point.” She laughed.

“Always.” His eyes almost rolled as she continued to scratch the back of his head.

“When I was eight years old my mom sat me down in the kitchen to tell me about how my uncle’s stories were actually real. It was three days after my birthday, and my mom gave me a black box as a present. It was a beautiful box. I opened it, thinking there was something inside, and I was so surprised when there was nothing in there. The stories that my uncle would tell me of these little creatures that gave you divine power when you put on their special bracelet or earring, whatever the charm was, was true, and they were kept in little boxes just like the one my mom gave me.”

“You hadn’t seen them before then?”

“No. My uncle-- he’s my great great great great uncle, actually-- he made sure to keep them hidden from me until my mom had told me the story. Kwamis were magical, and gave beautiful powers to those who used their jewelry, and as an eight year old I was obsessed. I thought about magical earrings, and rings, and a necklace so pretty that it would make everyone at the cinderella ball look at you.”

“I can imagine it,” He chuckled, thinking of a small little girl dressing up in front of the mirror, pretending to be wearing a special jewel.

“I told my uncle that very night that I wanted to train for one, so that I could keep my miraculous jewel in the little box my mom gave me. So I started to.”

“At eight years old?” 

“Yeah. I met Tikki-- Mister Bug’s kwami-- and Plagg, as I trained. I took aikido classes almost every day after school to make sure that I would be able to handle myself if my powers were ever taken away and I had nothing to fight with. My uncle would drill me relentlessly with tasks, always coming up with some chore or the other to keep me busy, as if he was just teasing me. I don’t think he understood I was being serious.”

“No wonder you got your black belt so quickly.”

She giggled as she continued to rub his neck. “I was a rambunctious kid. I never stood still, even back then. So I kept getting more impatient with myself during training that wasn’t martial arts, and I  _ especially _ couldn’t stay still when my uncle explained to me that I would be the next miraculous guardian if I was incredibly serious about the whole thing. I guess he’d realized that it had been two years and I hadn’t lost a single day of practice and training.”

“You were ten years old when you found out you were going to be the next guardian?”

“I was okay with that. I didn’t have many friends at school, other than a few that I’ve known since I was little, so it didn’t feel wrong of me. Besides, the miraculous has always been in the family business, so I had support from the entire family. The next miraculous guardian was supposed to be my mom, before she’d fallen in love with my dad, all those years ago.” 

She paused, losing herself in her thoughts. “My uncle was pretty upset about it. He’d held the miraculouses for the majority of his lifetime, and was upset that his niece wouldn’t do the same. I guess that’s why he never took me seriously when I said I wanted to be the next guardian, afraid that I was just trying to humor him.”

“But you’d spent years proving to him that you were serious.”

“I did. I told my uncle that I would be the strongest miraculous guardian the world had ever seen, too. I promised him. So I kept training. Every day for years, ever since I was eight, for the day that my uncle would put Tikki’s earrings would be in a familiar black box in front of me and tell me that I was ready.”

But that hadn’t happened. Adrien had gotten it instead, by complete accident.

“I opened my box after years of training and hardships and suffering in school socially because all I had was aikido and family and miraculous and I-- and-- Plagg was there, not Tikki. Plagg looked at me with his wide green eyes, just as shocked as I was.”

“Kitty. I’m sorry.” He gripped her a little tighter. Her voice was starting to crack again.

“My uncle continues to tell me that it was an accident, and that he hadn’t meant to give me the wrong miraculous. The miraculous had gone to a student of his, instead-- and I  _ wanted _ to be mad. It was something I’d worked for for my entire life. But looking at Mister Bug, I see why he was picked. He’s amazing, and witty, and his solutions to akumas are unparalleled. I can keep up, but just barely, because I’ve worked my whole life to defeat akumas. Mister Bug is just talented at everything he does, it feels like.”

It wasn’t true. He wasn’t talented at everything. “It’s not fair that you didn’t get the miraculous that you deserved.”

Her voice went small, hiding into his shoulder. “I kept telling myself that if only I had been better. If only I had pushed myself a little further. If only I could’ve done more. Maybe I would’ve been the next ladybug user. Maybe I would’ve been good enough.”

“--Kitty--”

“I’m not good enough, Adrien. I’ve never been good enough. It’s the whole shark and seaweed situation all over again. The moment that you asked me if I was in your school I saw the recognition in your eyes-- the one that always scared me, because I was terrified that if you realized that I was just  _ me-- _ you’d walk away. Because I’m not good enough, sunshine-- I’m not anyone special. I’m not worth it.”

“Hey.  _ Hey.  _ You’re not seaweed. I will never consider you seaweed.” He shook his head, bumping his nose lightly into her ear. “I wouldn’t walk away from you. Not ever.”

Her voice cracked, and she threatened to cry. “I have so much to do and uphold. I have to keep trying. I have to prove to my uncle that I’m good enough-- and I know that my uncle has said time and time again that I am, but I don’t feel it. I can’t feel it. I have to prove to  _ you _ and  _ Mister Bug _ that I’m good enough. And I couldn’t force myself to look at you and tell you the truth when you were right there and so ready to hear and find out who I was.”

“You’re my best friend, and you will always be good enough. You don’t need to tell me who you are. I don’t want to do that to you. You deserve your privacy.”

Noire sucked in a breath. “You had  _ every _ right to ask, just as much of a right for me to refuse to tell you. I shouldn’t have ran away and avoid talking to you entirely-- but the longer I worried about what I’d done, the longer the time it was between us-- the more I felt like you wouldn’t accept my apology and I just… kind of got stuck.” 

“It’s okay. Kitty, it’s okay. You’re my best friend, kitty. You are enough. You are the most enough I would ever want.” He kissed the hand closest to him, letting his thumb drag over the back of her palm. “I would never leave you. You’re enough. I promise.”

Her laughter was soft and wet around the edges, and he lifted his hands slowly to collect her tears. “Can you forgive me?”

“Of course I can. But  _ only _ if you forgive me for making us like this for three weeks.”

“Deal. Absolute positive deal.” Noire shivered in his arms, and tightened her jaw so that her teeth wouldn’t clack. “H-has your room always been this cold?”

“It gets colder at night,” He rubbed her back to warm her, chuckling as the skin on her arm erupted into goosebumps. Her skin was cool to the touch as he used his palms to warm her forearms. “I like keeping my room cold when I sleep. Do you want to move somewhere?”

She made a noise to indicate yes, pulling away from him just enough to curl her arms into her chest. “You live in a tundra, you have to. I’m so glad my suit doesn’t let me feel cold. I freeze under any inconvenience, it’s my most debilitating trait.”

“Let’s get you in a blanket, then.” Adrien faltered, reaching behind him for the couch and almost slipping. “Actually. I can’t see anything. The blankets are in the closet. Come to my bed instead.”

They pawed their way over to the bed, both completely blind. She gripped the back of his shirt with a tight fist as they slowly walked across the room, her other hand wrapped tightly around herself. Adrien tried not to curse out loud when his foot hit into the platform of his bed, and Noire tried her hardest not to laugh at their predicament.

He scooted across the bed to the other side, giving her space to go under the covers on her own time. Noire dipped the mattress with her small weight, and immediately tossed part of the blanket over herself. He found it incredibly easy to tangle their legs together, and to let her hand reach over his torso in a tight hug, as if they were meant to fit together. She curled into him, her head low, and she warmed herself up by shifting her legs against his.

They stayed together in the position for a few minutes, breathing quietly in the dark, his hand petting the highest point of her cheekbones. Closing his eyes or keeping them open made no difference for Adrien, the blackness of the room was only ever cut through by the thin sliver of light that reached his high ceiling. Even still, he knew that Noire hadn’t succumbed to sleep. He could almost touch the thoughts that she brewed in her head, the way she thought so viscerally and physically.

“I wish I could tell you.” She whispered into the dark.

He could feel her chest rise and fall against his elbow. “Tell me what?”

“I wish I could tell you who I am.” The tip of her eyelashes grazed the flesh of his palm. “I wish I could tell you everything.”

“Don’t. I don’t need it. I don’t need to know any of it to know  _ you.” _

“I know. And you’re right-- but I wish I could tell you everything, without hurting the trust I have with Mister Bug.”

Adrien frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Mister Bug deserves to be the first person to know who I am under the mask, and I at least wanted to give him that satisfaction. Well, he’d be the second. My uncle knows the both of us, so. But Mister Bug deserves to see who I am under the mask  _ first.” _

He could tell her now. He could tell her the truth.

“Noire? I--”

“But I haven’t been able to do that, either. My uncle has always been the one to tell us to keep our identities a secret in case something bad were to happen. I’ve wanted to tell him so badly, and Mister Bug hasn’t ever really cared about the whole thing, but I can’t get myself to do it. I understand why we keep it a secret. But I want to tell you. And I want to tell Mister Bug.”

“Noire, I don’t need to know who you are to know that you’re my best friend.” He shifted his legs. “And I don’t need to see your face to know that I love you.”

“But I wish you could. I wish you could see me. I wish I could-- just--  _ ugh--  _ I wish you could  _ see me.  _ Open your eyes and just _ look _ at me. And I wish I could look at you without worrying that I was doing something wrong.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“I made a mistake, becoming best friends with you in this suit. We could never be this close when I’m in my civilian clothes-- you’d notice who I was immediately. It’s been something constantly on my mind. Everytime I come here I’m thinking about it, how I wish we could’ve been friends like this when I wasn’t in the suit. But I’m too much of a coward to try.”

He shook his head as best as he could, his head up against the pillow. “None of this is a mistake.”

“You’ll never know my real name like this.” She took her hand off his torso to point at herself, barreling through her thoughts. The spot where her hand was went cold without her. “You’ll never know my name, my family, what I do for a living, or who my friends are. I can’t tell you any of it. I also ran away because--  _ because--” _

_ “--Noire--” _

“Because I’m afraid that you wouldn’t want to stay friends with me if you knew who I was. I’m just an ordinary girl who wants to be your friend so badly.” She confessed into his skin. “But I can’t tell you anything about myself. I’ve shot myself in the foot.”

“I don’t need to know your name to know what your favorite color is, or your food, or your music preference. I know everything about you that I could possibly wish to know in our circumstance, Noire.” He smiled into the dark. “You do yoga when you’re stressing out, you pester me almost to death when you’re bored and are looking for attention, you have a beautiful singing voice, and you have such a busy life that you snore when you crash on my couch. I love you even through all of this.”

She laughed quietly, picking her head off where she’d placed it by his side. He could feel ghosts of her breath puffing against his face. “It doesn’t bother you that you won’t know who I really am?”

If only she knew that he was kicking himself for keeping the secret of his identity from her for so long. He was a coward. He couldn’t tell her-- she was right. It was important for them to keep their identities a secret, Master Fu told them this.

“I do wish I knew what you looked like outside the mask.” He confessed, wishing he was looking at her eyes. He reached for her cheek to pet at it. “I wish I knew what your real name was. I do. I wish I knew everything about you. I wish I could  _ text you.  _ I think that’s something that I wish for the most-- when you left, I wanted to call you or text you and ask you to come back. But we can’t. And as much as I wish I could open my eyes and-- and--  _ see you--” _

“--Adrien--”

“But I’m okay with seeing your mask in the way, too. I’m okay with wondering if you’re going to show up at my door.” He faltered. “Window. Same thing. I love you in any way, shape, or form.”

“This is all my fault.” She leaned back down to rest her head on his chest.

He bit the side of his cheek as they laid there in the silence, listening to each other breathe. “Have I-- have I ever been mean to you when you’re not in the suit?”

“No.” He felt her eyelashes close against his palm like butterfly kisses when he smoothed her bangs back. “You’ve never been rude to me.”

He sighed. “Thank god.”

“Did you worry?”

He wished his eyes would stop trying to make patterns out of the dark ceiling. “It’s all I’ve been able to think about. If I was actually not that good of a friend to you outside the suit-- if I was hurting you almost every day without realizing-- if I was--”

“--You’ve never been mean.” Noire’s voice felt soft against his shirt. “In fact, it’s always felt like you knew it was me. It’s terrifying.”

He frowned. “Oh. Well, I’m glad that I’ve never hurt your feelings on accident.”

“Adrien, you can ask your questions, if you want.” Noire’s arm was as soft as silk on his torso as he moved his thumb across her skin. “I know you want to. It’s okay to ask.”

“I don’t want you to leave if I ask the wrong thing.”

“I won’t leave.”

He went silent. “Do you promise?”

“Of course I do. Never again. I’ll tell you that I can’t answer.”

Adrien stared at the ceiling, letting spots of white drift in and out of his vision. “Is your hair really black?”

“Yes.”

“I never knew that suits could change physical parts of people,” He let their conversation drift into silence for a moment.

She giggled. “Did you think I actually had sharp canines?”

He tried shrugging. “I don’t really know. I didn’t know suits could do that.”

“It’s something I learned a while ago, back when I used to study the texts religiously. I can do and change everything about me, if I want to. So I make sure to make my hair longer everytime I transform. I like the way it looks in the braid.”

Adrien never knew that. He would’ve changed so much about his hair as Mister Bug if he’d known.

He bit his lip. “Were-- were you-- at the field trip meeting?”

She nodded into his shoulder. “Yes.”

Warm, fuzzy feelings erupted in his chest.

He almost felt self conscious, “Did you look at me while I talked and gave my presentation, or did you shy away?”

“I’m always looking at you.” She took her time to answer as if she was confessing something. “You’re my best friend. I wanted you to succeed. I was kicking myself in my chair, hoping that everything would be good. I knew you were nervous. So I got nervous for you.”

He imagined her squirming, seated next to her friends in the auditorium, never being able to sit still or do anything except move her hands. Maybe she’d brought a pencil to twirl nervously between her fingers, or maybe she’d ask a friend to let her play with their hand. Maybe even she’d gotten up and walked at the back of the auditorium, pacing, worrying her lip between her teeth like she always does.

“Did you notice that Simon was going to turn into an akuma?”

“No. I only found out when he started to scream.” She sighed. “By the time I realized, it was already time to transform. Plagg came barreling to me, freaked out.”

He wondered if Plagg was upset with how everything went down. “What city did you vote for?”

She laughed, looking for his bracelet to play with the beads with her fingertips. “Seriously?”

“Its an important question.”

“New York.” He could hear the smile in her voice. She dug deeper in her cuddling, trying to attach herself to him, curling up against his body like a cat, fingers still curling around the beads on his wrist. “It’s always been New York for me. I’ve never gone out of Paris before, and I want to go up the Empire State Building.”

Adrien sighed into the quietness, letting his chest fill to the max capacity before letting go. “Would we-- would you-- be able to meet me up there?”

“That would give me away if I did,” She skirted around the issue lightly.

“Can I buy you a gift?”

Her smile came back into her voice. “You don’t have to buy me anything.”

“I think of you always, kitty. I want you to have something.” He laughed when she yawned into his shoulder. “Maybe we should get some sleep instead of playing twenty questions.”

“I want to argue no, but I haven’t been sleeping well at all these past three weeks.”

“Me neither.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry. I should’ve come sooner.” 

He pet at her hair. “Don’t. I’m glad you came here. I’m glad we’re okay now.”

“You know, we could always just sleep on the plane tomorrow.”

He chuckled. “I don’t think you’ll be able to sleep on a plane, kitty.”

“I surprise you more often than you think, Charming.” She laughed into his sleeve. “Get some rest.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“Of course,” She squeezed him tight around the waist, and kissed him on the shoulder. “Goodnight, sunshine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter coming up! I'll upload soon, I promise. I'm juggling some other things I'm posting for this weekend, as well as a bunch of programming assignments that are just so tedious. Goodness. I feel like throwing my laptop out my window whenever I have to code in visual studio.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for the comments and kudos. I live for them, and I refresh my mail app over and over for any new email from AO3 for them. I'm so thankful for all of you <3 thank you so much!!!
> 
> See you soon! Lots of Love,  
> FragileIzy<3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being so patient for my return! It's hard to write when there's homework compounding onto you. Here's the ending of this story!
> 
> Please enjoy!

Adrien groaned as something to his side stirred. “Stop it.”

The body next to him squeaked, and used small hands to cover the top of his face and eyes, and instantly Adrien shot awake, his body going tense. Oh. Oh,  _ right.  _ Noire was in his arms, warm and soft. “Hey, Sunshine. Good morning.”

“Wh-- what time is it--”

“It’s pretty early, still.” She whispered hoarsely, shifting her legs against his to soak up as much body heat as possible. She was so warm that he wanted to just grab her and flip her on her side and spoon for the rest of his life time. He weakly reached for her elbow, his bracelet and beads clinking as he moved his arms. He didn’t have the strength to pull her down, so he let his hand rest at her arm. “I have to go home and get my things ready for the trip, but I didn’t think your room would be this lit up at this early in the morning.”

“I sleep with a sleep mask on because of the windows,” His voice felt like gravel. “There’s too much sun in the mornings.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” She mused. “I think it’s around five in the morning. I think.”

“So we only slept two hours.” He groaned. “Great.”

“You can keep sleeping, if you’d like. I have to go home and get ready.”

“Did you not pack your bag?”

“Oh, no, I did. I just have a couple of things extra to finish up on. I should probably get something to eat at home, too. Maybe have some coffee. There’s just so many things I have to do, I’m not sure I’ll finish in time. Maybe I’ll stay in my suit while I get ready.”

“--Kitty--”

“What type of coffee would wake you up right now if you had it?”

He groaned. “You’re talking… too much. Too early.”

“Come on, sunshine, pay attention.” He knew even without looking at her that she was rolling her eyes fondly at him, trying not to laugh.

“Something sugary, I guess.” He was forcing himself to stay awake, but his body sagged into the mattress, pulling him into sleep. Her voice was a lovely lullaby to listen to, and he loved how it twinkled while she whispered. “I don’t… drink coffee. I usually like my… coffee black… when I have it… but…”

“Stay with me here, Charming.” She giggled. “Are you not a morning person?”

He kissed the part of her hand that was closest to his mouth. Maybe it was her wrist. His lips caught on a bracelet on her arm, and they jingled on his cheek when he shifted his head. “Not when I... have to be.”

“Hm. Lucky.” She sighed. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Right... now?”

“Later. But can you?”

Her voice was so beautiful, he wasn’t registering what she was saying. “Sure. I can try. Anything for you… kitty.”

“Can you give the scarf to the girl you’ve been making the scarf for, today?”

He scrunched his nose. “Today?”

“Is it done?”

“Yeah. I worked on it... since you were gone.”

A brief pause.

“Can you give it to her?”

“Why today?”

He almost fell asleep in the silence that followed, his brain completely powering off.

“Because I want you to be happy.”

He tried paying attention. “I am happy. I’m happy right here. We can be happy right here forever and ever, if you want. Stay.”

“I know. I’m happy here, too. But we have somewhere to be soon.” She laughed. When Adrien didn’t respond again, she let her hands relax on his eyes. “Plagg? Where are you? It’s time to go. Claws out.”

The skin of her fingers replaced with cold hexleather, jolting him back awake from the almost peaceful sleep he’d been entering into. He blinked wearily at the light coming into his room from the windows, to Noire who looked at him curiously when she pulled her hands off him, mapping his face and bed hair with those diamond green eyes.

She was sitting up, blanket loose around her nipped waist, her hair clean and polished into a braid on her shoulder. She looked refreshed and energized, her eyes sparkling and pupils open as she smiled fondly at him, and he was  _ star struck. _

He smiled. He missed her. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” She smiled back, letting the tips of her canines peek through her parted lips. “I have to go now. Can you do me that favor?”

He nodded slowly. Scarf. Give. Marinette. Noire. Promise. “Yeah. I think I can do it.”

“Good.” His body fizzled with electricity when she leaned down to kiss him on the brow bone and then at the top of his cheek. “I’ll see you later, sunshine.”

His eyes widened, cheeks heating without his permission. “See you soon.”

It was probable that he wouldn’t fall asleep after that.

* * *

He was early.

He turned to his bodyguard, a large chunk of man with an affination for the car he drove Adrien around. They were pulled up in front of his school, in the crisp morning where Paris was in the middle of waking up. Shops around the school were still closed, and those that flanked the school in a large circle had shopkeepers bustling to get their doors open and ready for the morning rush. Their best customers were the school, of course. No teenager could resist the pull of fresh bread and butter.

Adrien thanked the Gorilla when he opened the trunk to pull out his suitcase. He slung his backpack strap over his shoulder, careful not to jostle the bottle of water inside the backpack too much. He wanted to drink that before getting on the plane. Taking a page out of Noire’s book.

He waved at the car as the Gorilla drove away, one hand on the handle of his luggage. He couldn’t believe it. He was going to New York City. And he was going alone. No bodyguards, no dad keeping a close eye on him. It would be him and the graduating class, alone.

Adrien could hardly contain his excitement, regardless of how tired he felt.

He patted at the small square of fabric on his sweater where his hands went in to keep warm, knowing that Tikki was inside. It would probably be better if he went inside the school to wait, since there were benches inside. Tikki was a cuddly bug when it was cold, so he had to try. But the classrooms were probably locked still, maybe. He wasn’t sure. He’d never gotten to school this early.

Adrien was usually to school on time. Other than the incidents where akumas attacked just before class started, he liked to believe that his attendance record for being on time was pretty solid. He missed school a lot for his job, but he made up for it by being to class on time-- as well as doing any homework and classwork he missed, of course.

But he’d never been this early to school before. Granted, the moment that Noire left he’d found no reason to stay in bed-- for some reason, trying to fall asleep without her close felt foreign and strange. 

His bed was suddenly way too big for him, and he hated it with a passion that kept him from falling asleep. Tikki had surprisingly been very cheeky about it all morning as he picked up his already-packed luggage from the closet, probably because she spent the night hanging around with Plagg. Tikki, if anything, had gotten enough sleep to function. He wasn’t quite there yet. But the more and more he thought of Noire, the closer he got to being awake.

He slung his luggage over the bulk of his arm, carrying it up the small steps to the front of the school. The giant double doors creaked as he opened it, and he carried his luggage through the door with ease. He glanced around, checking his corners out of sheer habit, to see a few people sitting on benches already, their luggages and backpacks close by. Many of them snacked on food, eating their breakfast while waiting for the courtyard to fill. Adrien smiled at the sight.

Simon on one of the benches lifted his head at the noise of the door opening, smiling small, leaving his luggage on the bench as he walked towards him. “Hey, Adrien.”

“Hello Simon!” He tried to be friendly, hoping that there weren’t any bags under his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling tired, but ready for the trip.” Simon sighed. “I wanted to apologize about the akuma. I haven’t been able to find you in the month since it happened, but I still wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Adrien smiled. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“That was rude of me to get upset that you two had won.” Simon nodded, more to himself. “I shouldn’t have gotten angry.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, Simon. Your feelings were justified-- you were upset. It was the akuma that made it more violent, that’s all.”

Simon relaxed. “Thanks, Adrien.”

“Adrien? You’re here early!” Adrien’s head snapped into the direction of Marinette’s voice, who sat on a bench far against the wall, waving at him with a happy smile.

“Oh yeah, definitely go hang out with your president. Hope you enjoy the trip!” Simon waved him free.

Oh. This was it. This was the moment he had been waiting for all year. He swallowed painfully around his closed throat, his heart beating loud in his ears. The excitement of the trip turned somewhat sour in his chest, turning into anxiety as he made up his mind. He was going to do it. He’d promised Noire that he would.

He rolled over to her, suddenly self conscious about the way he walked. “H-hey. How long have you been here for?”

He watched her pull down her pink cardigan sleeves down to her wrist, the soft silvers of her rings on her hand catching light and shining. She picked off a stray lint that twirled around the largest ring on her fingers, smiling sweetly up at him. She shivered to herself in the chilly morning air, folding herself back into the warmth of her sweater. Instead of wearing her skirts with a white top, Marinette had changed her outfit into pink leggings with a warm top, and sneakers instead of her typical ballet flats. 

There was something about her that screamed exhausted, but he couldn’t place it. Maybe the nightmare akuma had done some damage on her, too. He wondered what her nightmare had been, but knew it was probably not his place to ask. 

She was wearing makeup-- more than she normally did-- and the slight purpling under her eyes were washed out by foundation and most likely color correct. He couldn’t tell, and the more he looked at her, scrutinizing for clues, the more he felt like a creep.

She laughed, patting the empty space on the bench next to her, pulling a flat white box onto her lap. “Not long! You want something to eat? I brought food items from the bakery for anyone who wanted it. A couple people have already accepted, so there’s about four cookies missing I think.”

Adrien smiled fondly. Of course Marinette would think of others, even at the last second of preparing for a field trip. She pulled the top lid of the box open, revealing an array of food piled sideways into the box, and Adrien’s eyes widened at the sight. Each cookie was individually wrapped with it’s own glassine bag, twist tied at the end with a mint and gold foil ribbon. So this is what the other students were eating? “Wow. Marinette, this is so thoughtful. H-how long did it take for you to put this together?”

“Not long either.” She gestured for him to take something. “Maybe about an hour? I sleeved the cookies last night instead of packing because I was procrastinating. I like doing repetitive tasks when I’m anxious! But I’ve learned the hard way today that cookies are finicky to stack sideways. I didn’t want to stuff too much of them so that they would crumble, but if I stack them one on top of the other, people won’t know all the flavors they want. My dad was telling me I was thinking about it too hard. So I brought two boxes. I’ve been up practically all night.”

She wasn’t the only one, it felt like. He’d aged eight years in the past night alone.

“You were anxious?” Adrien bit his cheek. Idiot. She wouldn’t tell him why.

“Oh-- I--” Marinette broke eye contact. Did he ask something to personal? “A little nervous, yeah. I’ve never flown before, and I’ve never left Paris, either.”

He felt like an idiot. “Oh-- I never knew-- I’m sorry--”

“Oh no, it’s totally fine!” Marinette waved him off with her neon green nails. She must’ve painted them the night before, too, being anxious about the flight. Adrien thought about if Noire was excited for her field trip, and if she had painted her nails. He wished he could have seen them, but he understood why he hadn’t been able to. He wondered if Noire had remembered to pack socks. Or her toothbrush. She’d complain about the cold feet the entire time. He hoped she remembered her toothbrush. “I don’t tell people about my fear of flying because it sounds a little silly.”

“It’s not silly at all.” He placed his backpack on the bench next to her, patting his back pocket for his phone. He wished he could text Noire to remind her to pack extra socks. Or bring a neck pillow. Or a sweater. Or something that didn’t make her snore when she slept. 

He didn’t mind it, especially not anymore when she’d fallen asleep on his chest, curled up like a true cat, but maybe the people who sat next to her on the flight would be bothered by all the noise. “I don’t think I’m much help, but if you need to, I could help you out when we fly.”

“You would?” Her blue eyes widened. “How would you?--”

What the hell was he saying? The urge to smack his head against the wall was too real. “I-- uh-- maybe could download some videos off the internet that help with flying, I have noise-canceling headphones that make airplane noise disappear-- you’d be able to fall asleep in no time.”

“You would? Do that for me?” Her smile widened, and something about the expression just made him think about Noire. He thumbed at the bracelet on his wrist in thought.

“It’s no big deal. I don’t mind at all.” And it wasn’t. And he didn’t. Adrien mulled over that thought, pulling his headphones out of his backpack to give for her to try, peeking at the pink fabric that snagged on a hard edge of the headphones and tried coming out along with it. He stared hard at the scarf he’d knitted, before stuffing it back into his bag. Not now. He wasn’t ready yet. It didn’t feel right to give it to Marinette at the moment.

“Here, try these on and tell me if they work. I’ll put on some music for you.” Adrien searched the near endless rows for chocolate chip in the box of food, knowing that Tikki would be elated for a treat to snack on for the time being. “Do you have--”

“Chocolate chip?” Marinette nodded, putting down her cup of coffee. “Oh yeah! It’s somewhere in here. I know it’s your favorite, so I packed a bunch of it just in case. It’s a popular choice in the bakery, so I figured I would bring the most of it so that whenever you showed up you’d still have a chance to get it. I guess I should’ve just separated one out for you, now that I’m thinking about it. Maybe I wouldn’t have had to sleeve so many cookies.”

Adrien’s face heated at the idea that Marinette had  _ thought about him. _

Marinette laughed. “Guess I didn’t need to bring so many of it, since you were going to show up early, right? I really thought you’d be the last one to come to school. You or Chloe. But now that I think about it more, it’ll probably be Nath.”

He sat down next to her, pulling a cookie out with him. He thumbed the mint ribbon, somehow reminding himself on the ribbon on the end of Noire’s hair. “No, no, thank you anyways. S-seriously. Thank you, Marinette. Y-you’re always so thoughtful, thinking of others. I never would’ve thought to bring something for our friends to eat, in case they missed breakfast.”

“Oh, oh!” Marinette’s eyes widened as she patted her hand behind her, searching for something. “I’m so stupid. I also brought you a coffee. I don’t know what type of coffee you like-- I’ve never asked-- but the good news is, it’s still hot!”

“You got me coffee?” He must’ve looked way too exhausted.

“Of course I did!” She wrapped her hands around a paper cup with a lid, bits of foam leaking off the sides. “I made it the way I drink my coffee, so I’m sorry if you’re not a fan of a lot of sugar. Coffee helps my anxiety, and the sugar is just there to keep me awake. It sounds counterintuitive, but  _ trust me, _ I’m the one with the attention problem.”

Why was Marinette so unabashedly sweet to him? What had he done to deserve this sweetness for? “Oh-- thank you. I probably don’t put a lot of sugar in my coffee like you do, but I’ll do anything to wake me up. This is wonderful, Marinette.”

She looked like she was trying to hold back on a sentence, before inevitably giving in. “I wanted to get you something for always being my rock out here.”

“Your rock?”

She dipped her head onto her propped up knee as she sat more lazily. “We’ve done so much together this year. I really put you through hell with all the ideas in my head coming out at rapid speed, and planning.” 

“Hey, it’s not a big deal.” He had enough training with hyperactive with Noire.

“--And I mean, it was lots and lots of planning, wasn’t it? Alya doesn’t like how I plan too much all the time, but you’ve never complained about it once. I overexert myself a lot.” She yawned, almost as if for emphasis.

“I wouldn’t ever complain about things like that.” Adrien tried not to blush, tapping his fingertips on the side of the cup for something to do. “I really like that you’re organized to a fault but you think too fast for it to keep up. It just shows that you care.”

He felt like a broken clock, with every little thing reminding him of Noire.

“I also like that you’re always looking out for others while you’re doing it. Going out of your way to plan for an entire separate video to shoot in case the first idea didn’t work, having class meetings so that everyone knew what we were doing, all of it.” He took a sip of the coffee, and his tired body jolted at the contact with caffeine. He wasn’t normally a coffee drinker at all.

Marinette’s laughter made him smile. “You’re too sweet. Thanks, Adrien. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner this year.”

“You made the right choice, I hope!”

“I definitely did!” Her laughter came easy to her. “Oh, hey, what button do I click on this?”

He put the cookie on his lap, and shuffled the coffee cup onto the floor so it wouldn’t tip over. “Let me set it up for you.”

Her eyes zeroed on his wrist when he pulled his sleeves back to deal with the headphones. “Ooh, I like your lucky charm. Did you get that from my uncle’s place?”

He smiled up at her, dropping his headphones in his lap to look at the beads. He couldn’t exactly say that a family member of hers had given it to him… “Yeah.”

“I remember making those when I was younger,” Humor swirled in her eyes as she reached for it. Her fingers always surprised him by how small they are. “He’d tell me and my cousins that it was part of learning how to create habits and structured time, learning how to bead those bracelets. We had poems that we had to recite while making those beads, to make sure that the charms would actually work. At one point, I was the only one making them.”

He bit his cheek. “Oh yeah?”

She snorted. “I don’t think we were learning anything, though. I think he was just trying to use me as a free charm making machine. I used to make hundreds of them, I got so good at them. I even have my own, when I decided to get a permanent one.”

She pulled her cardigan back to reveal the silver band around her wrist, glittering with small charms.

His eyes widened back down to his on his wrist, playing with a frayed red string. “How long do you think it took to make this one?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe thirty minutes?” She fixed the bracelet to keep the frayed string on the other side, hidden away. She twisted some of the beads to let the colorful painted animals show up from his wrist. He burned at her touch. “But if it was made specifically for you, it could’ve taken much longer. Each bead had to be perfect. Each character had to be painted on slowly. It could’ve taken days, if the person really wanted to put their heart into it.”

He helped her put on the headphones when their conversation slacked, and reached around her to turn the headphones on. He waited for a moment for the side light to turn blue, indicated that it was paired successfully with his phone, before diving into his pocket to look for a song for her to listen to. She watched him swipe through his phone to look for the music app, and he pressed shuffle, putting the volume of the headphones at a reasonable height so that it wouldn’t be too loud for her.

He’d accidentally clicked into Noire’s playlist she’d jokingly made on his phone once. He watched the little letters flit across the screen about the title of the song, knowing that it was one of her favorite songs in the world. He wondered if she would get to school on time. 

She always gave him the impression that she slept in until the last minute constantly, but with the amount of stuff she’d said that she needed to get ready for the trip... He hoped she wouldn’t miss her flight, that Plagg had managed to rouse her out of bed to get ready. Or at least nagged her until she left the house.

Marinette couldn’t hear him. She bopped her head to the song that played, eyes squinting as she smiled. Adrien tried keeping his face neutral as she swayed to the music playing in her ears, but the blush made its way up the sides of his neck with no opposition.

He tried testing to see if the noise-canceling would work. “Marinette? Can you hear me?”

Marinette tilted her head, placing a hand over where her ear would be, indicating that she was trying to listen but couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. “What did you say?”

“Marinette,” Adrien laughed, despite himself. “You can’t hear me at all, can you?”

“Wow, Adrien, these headphones are really good. I can’t hear a word you’re saying!”

Adrien watched her dance on her spot on the bench with a fond smile on his face, letting his phone rest in the space between the two of them, looking back to the cookie in the glassine sleeve. He thumbed the ribbon again, wondering wistfully about Noire. He’d promised her that he would give the newly made scarf to the person that he had chose to make it for today.

But what was making him chicken out? What was making him want to hide the scarf away? The more and more he looked at Marinette, the more he recognized the traits he sought out from Noire. The playfulness, the motivation, and the intimacy, it was all there but out of reach. Noire was the one who gave all of it to him willingly. 

He felt a little off, knowing that he was still trying to make a move on the girl he’d been crushing on ever since the two of them had gotten into an argument on his first day after being homeschooled his entire life. They’d apologized to each other, of course. 

He remembered the wide blue eyes looking at him skeptically, wondering if he was trying to dupe her, before ultimately apologizing to him as well, on the count that they would work well together if they ran for class office positions together. It was the moment he’d realized that all he wanted to do was to stay with someone that continued again and again to make adventures for him, and new experiences, who challenged him but also listened to his reasonings.

But Noire did that with him, too. Bickered and argued with him about keeping his room clean under the pretense of keeping organized being a good personality trait, or how to beat akumas while bantering with him about her latest pun. Doing yoga and handstands while he worked on homework, or the scarf. Snoring on his couch while he knitted a scarf for a girl he thought he had a crush on. He did, at some point. Now all he could think about was Noire.

Would he really be okay dating someone, knowing what Noire felt like in his arms as they napped? Or how her eyes turned into stars when they were playing video games together?

He didn’t need someone to tell him how to clean his room, and he definitely didn’t need anyone telling him where his clothes should fit in the drawer-- but he  _ enjoyed _ the chaoticness that was Noire telling him to organize while in the middle of trying to recite some obscure movie dialogue that had popped up in her head, jumping rope in his room to try to dispel as much of Plagg’s energy out of her body as possible. 

He  _ enjoyed _ the chaos that was Noire forcing herself to complete a task while hand standing. He  _ enjoyed _ the chaos that was Noire screaming and laughing as she beat him over and over in Mecha Strike, mashing buttons, climbing onto couches to get a better height advantage instead of sitting down like a normal person.

He  _ enjoyed _ the crying matches they got into when they watched Sailor Moon over and over again. He loved all of it, everything and anything-- how she came into his life and sucked him up into a tornado with her thoughts, and spat him back out only when it was time to leave, leaving him dazed and confused and happy and joyful.

Noire was inquisitive, and kept him on his toes with her whirlwind of a mind, and he was so grateful that he could keep up with it. He wished he could do it every day for the rest of his life. 

He wished he could spend the rest of his life with Noire.

He locked his phone before he cried onto the screen, pocketing it in favor of looking in Marinette’s direction instead. She cocked her head at him, blue eyes pale in the weak morning sunlight. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t confess anything to Marinette, knowing that Noire was the person he wanted to be with instead. Marinette wasn’t his shark anymore.

“Adrien,” She pulled the headphones off her head softly, letting the plastic frame make small crinkling noises as she folded it correctly into the same position it was in when he had given it to her. “I was wondering if I’d been reading us wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

She bit her tongue down, in the way that was so Marinette-like. She picked at lint on her leggings. “Well I, I don’t want you to think I’m putting you on the spot with this. I just want to know. It’s okay if… it isn’t true. I was wondering if at some point that we’ve known each other, you had a crush on me.”

Adrien’s breath came out shuddery. 

It was now or never. 

“I.” Do? “I-- did.”

“Did?” Her lips quirked tiredly.

“I-I used to, yeah.”

“Did I… ruin my chances somehow?”

“No, no. Of course not.” 

“But--”

“You weren’t the one who ruined the chances. There’s someone else.” He couldn’t help but smile, thinking of diamond green eyes.

“I-- I saw the pink item in your backpack.” He’d never heard Marinette talk this softly before. “And although I know pink isn’t just for girls, or anything, but I was wondering if it was something you were going to give to someone.”

Was Marinette and Noire actual cousins? Distant cousins that lived in the same area and went to the same school? Had Noire told Marinette that there was a scarf in his backpack and that he was going to give it to the person he liked?

“I was going to give it to you.” He confessed, and he watched her straighten in her seat. “I spent that past three months working on this scarf so that I could give it to you on the field trip. But I can’t. I can’t do that anymore, knowing that there’s someone else.”

* * *

Adrien patted his chest just as a precaution, thumbing the small rise of his miraculous on his shirt’s collar, a soft and subtle gesture that gave him enough breathing room for the next five minutes before he did it again. He listened humorously to Nino’s animated explanation of his latest musical endeavors, and laughed when Nino nearly slung his passport behind him and into Max’s face in the process.

“You gotta be careful with that, Nino.” Max chided him, looking up from his phone.

“Sorry, man. You know of the music program I’m talking about though, don’t you?”

Max didn’t bother acting like he hadn’t been somewhat eavesdropping into their conversation. “I’ve tried it before. It’s impossible to use unless you watch a billion tutorials. I’ve heard lots of good music with the program--”

_ “Exactly! _ You’re speaking my language.”

Adrien made more room with him so he could join their conversation, shuffling his luggage bag over with the back of his ankle, trying not to push into the rest of his classmates that were in front of them. 

Max grinned, his eyes behind his rectangular frames going shiny. “But I tried making something, even a ten second song, and it was just impossible. Song writers make it look so simple.”

“So you understand my pain.” Nino’s face soured, patting Max heavy on the shoulder in sympathy.

“I guess so. Although I chalked it up to not being all that proficient in music.” Max leaned into his hand while he thought, pocketing his phone in one of his oversized coat pockets. “But if you were also having issues, maybe the program is just not made for people to understand.”

Adrien shuffled his baggage forward, eyeing up toward the front of the line, looking for how far away he was to the next available check-in desk. The line was large because of the entire graduating class going to the same destination, with many classes having to be split into separate airplane flights to make it to the same destination. Their class was one of the few lucky ones that hadn’t gotten split apart, thanks to Chloe’s incessant pleading to her dad that she didn’t want to be split up from Sabrina.

He spotted the blonde up ahead, popping gum and tapping away on her phone, her sleeves of her yellow sweater pulled up to escape the stifling heat that was brewing inside the line. She was going to be the first one in the class to be attended to, of course. Adrien had been alright with being one of the last, claiming that it was a lot easier to find where the line ended if there was someone tall in the back. If Marinette or Alix had been in the back, it would have been miserable trying to gauge just how long the entire class would take to be attended to.

Besides, it was much easier to spot a tall blonde with a medical facemask on, than looking for Mylene or Alix.

He spotted Alix with a neck pillow already strapped on her shoulders, rolling her eyes at Kim as they spoke loudly about the importance of legroom in airplanes, and who would be sitting in the aisle seat. Adrien himself had already succumbed to the knowledge that he would be uncomfortable during the seven hour flight. As ashamed as he was to admit it, he’d never ridden coach before, and hoped it wasn’t as bad as his friends had suggested it was.

He would find it fine and doable so long as he got the aisle seat in his row. His legs wouldn’t be able to handle being squished for too long. He’d lose circulation in them within an hour if he got put at a window seat. As much as he loved looking at the ocean, it would be too dark to see anything until later on in the flight, and it would be useless for him to have to lose circulation in his legs just to see the view of water and clouds.

He thumbed at his miraculous again, patting his jean pocket for his passport. Just in case. Just in case.

“What’s got you so quiet, man?” Nino patted his shoulder, breaking Adrien out of his thoughts. “Normally you’re quiet like this, but you were pretty talkative on the bus ride here.”

Adrien laughed, pulling down one of the sleeves to his pullover, hiding the beads back on his wrist. “Just trying to act natural.”

He couldn’t tell him about how he made Marinette cry. He hadn’t been expecting Marinette to be so affected by the prospect of losing out on a romantic relationship with him, if he was being honest. Marinette had never indicated that she was interested. But maybe that wasn’t what got him about it. The fact that Marinette had, at some point, expected him to say something about his feelings was bizarre. Had he been that totally obvious about his crush on her? Had Noire told her?

Even though his dad had let him go on the trip, claiming that it would be good for Adrien to experience something without him, Adrien had taken some precautions. He hid his face behind a facemask, and wore a blue hat to hide his hair. He’d tried putting sunglasses with the outfit to cover his entire face, but Tikki had told him that it didn’t look all that good. So. Sunglasses and hat it was.

He hid a somber smile behind the mask every time he looked at Marinette’s direction.

His hat matched his sweater, with both having a red strip cutting across the center. He wore his favorite pair of shoes, knowing that it was the heaviest thing he owned and definitely not the thing to put into his weighted luggage if he wanted enough room to put his souvenirs in. While he’d gone to New York City multiple times, he’d never actually gotten anything other than photos. This would be the first time he would be able to bring things back with him.

He pulled on his backpack strap, trying to tighten it to his body as much as possible, and patted down his passport in his jean pocket again. He tried making conversation, anything to change the subject off of him. “You excited to go to New York, Max?”

“Very excited. Airplanes in general are my favorite thing to experience.”

“But what about the city, dude,” Nino laughed. “Airplanes are the same everywhere.”

Max smiled with him, shuffling their luggage forward. “True. But there’s something so fascinating to me about the mechanical movement of the wings. They’re perfect.”

“Are you going to request a window spot?” Adrien tilted his head, curious.

“If there are any left in our group.” Max admitted. “We’re going to have a couple of people who want window seats, meaning that most of our group is going to be either to the complete left or the complete right side of the plane. Most likely we’re all going to be put together in one collective group since we’re all trying to collect our boarding passes now, so some of us are going to have to share the aisle of four with someone they don’t know.”

Adrien tried butting in when he paused, pushing his luggage when the line went forward. “What’s the plane model we’re going on?”

Nino laughed when Max smiled knowingly. “Good question. The flight plans suggest that we’ll be boarding a 777, though I’m not positive until we receive our boarding tickets. The first one to know will be Chloe, and I don’t think she’ll tell me if I ask her.”

“We could try texting Sabrina whose in the front, if you really want to know.” Nino suggested, giving Adrien a pat. “Or you could try texting Marinette, since she’s pretty close to Chloe.”

Max winked to Adrien. “That would be helpful! But if you’re not able to, Adrien, I wouldn’t mind. I understand your hesitance to approach someone you have a crush on.”

Adrien sputtered behind his mask, cheeks heating despite himself. “Hold on a second--”

“Going back to our subject, the 777 is usually a two-lane plane, with the seats being in a 3-4-3 arrangement. That gives us more space for aisle room, which is needed for people as tall as us. However, there are four rows in the back of the economy area that are arranged as 2-4-2 to make space for the bathrooms.”

“You’re hoping you get one of those?” They moved forward in line.

Max nodded when placing his duffel bag on the floor again. “Those are my best bets. I don’t mind being next to the bathrooms. Better priority. Although the selection of food at the back of the plane is never good, airplane food in general is lukewarm at best. As the spanish say, ‘Que sera, sera’.”

“You’ve got this down to a science, man.”

Max laughed, his nose scrunching. “I love airplanes. I hope I get to see the wings in action from the window seat, or hopefully I’m able to convince someone in our class to change seats with me. I’ll even let them have my arm rest, if they want it.”

Adrien patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll trade you if I have it, so long as the ticket you get is the aisle seat.”

“Your legs are too long, man.” Nino shook his head, gesturing how his jeans stretched for miles. “Are you seventy percent leg?”

Adrien rolled his luggage behind him. “I want to say I’m evenly proportioned, but honestly, the legs stump me sometimes. I haven’t measured how long my legs are, but I’m guessing more than fifty percent leg.”

Nino tsked good humoredly. “That’s too much leg.”

“Hey, it sells well. I’m sure my dad’s thankful for my legs being long so that he could put those weird fire detailing on the jeans he did for that one shoot.”

“You looked great in that one.”

Adrien snorted. “Don’t lie to me, Nino, you’re my friend.”

“We’re glad that you were able to come with us on this trip,” Max pocketed his phone after checking a notification. “We would’ve felt so bummed if you couldn’t go.”

“Awh. Thanks, Max.”

“Yeah man, continue. Speak from the heart.” Nino nodded to him, gesturing for him to continue.

Max pushed at Nino’s shoulder, laughing, pulling his luggage behind him. “Hey. I  _ am _ speaking from the heart. You try it.”

“Nah man. It’s cool.” Nino nodded to Adrien, fiddling with the strap to his neck pillow. “I agree with Max. I know for a fact that Marinette would’ve been depressed.”

He didn’t know what to do with that information. Especially now.

Adrien tried not to look for her in the line, knowing that Nino and Max were watching him. But he couldn’t help himself. She was easy for him to spot, her black hair like midnight braided into two dutch pigtail braids. She chatted with Alya, at the front of the pack with her, laughing at some joke that they partook with Nathaniel. They were in the front of the line now, being the next ones to be called by a boarding agent. Adrien’s eyes went back to Nino’s before the two in front of him could comment on it, thankful for the way his face mask covered his worried frown from showing.

“You think she’d be depressed?”

“You’re joking. Right? Dude, come on.” Kim in front of him butted into the conversation, Alix looking over his arm with a knowing look. 

“I’m not finishing a bet for the both of you.” Adrien tried glaring at Alix, and Kim, but the effect was lessened by the mask covering his mouth.

“Nah, nah. No bets, I think. Did you see how excited she was when you said yes to being her vice president? The girl would’ve cried if you had spent all this time planning out this field trip just to not be able to go.”

She’d already cried today.

“Don’t jump to conclusions, Kim.” Adrien rolled his eyes, trying to keep his frown from being obvious in his voice. “She would’ve been sad, yes, but--”

“No, like, she  _ really _ was going to just march into your house and talk to your dad, before dissolving into tears.” Alix shook her head as well as she could with the neck pillow strapped on her shoulders. “Like, jump the fence to your house and  _ everything, _ if she had to. I’d totally help her jump it. It would be fun.”

He let the weird feeling settle into his gut. “She said that to you guys?”

Alix shot him a look. “Don’t be stupid, Adrien. You think she  _ wouldn’t _ do it?”

“Well, she’d joked about that with me,” They all rolled their luggage forward, and Adrien tried not to let the feeling brew too quickly in his torso. “But I didn’t think she was serious enough to tell the entire class that too.”

“Why wouldn’t she?”

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t believe her.” His mouth thinned into a line behind his mask. “Would she do that for anyone else?”

“Probably.” Kim shrugged his shoulders, but winced when Alix hit him hard with the back of her elbow. “Well. I mean. P-probably, but not to the extreme of jumping the fence for.”

“She likes you, dude.” Nino tacked on, “She wouldn’t do that for just anyone, I’m sure.”

He’d ruined his chances with Marinette, and his body couldn’t decide whether to mourn it, or attempt to be happy at how he had found someone new to love.

Someone screamed in front of them. Their heads snapped up to the noise, conversation forgotten, to the baggage attendant that had been talking to Chloe. Adrien tried not thump his face with his phone in a groan when he saw the tell-tale sign of a red butterfly hue coating the top half of the attendants face, Chloe backing away from the counter slowly. Why was it always Chloe? They backed up from the attendant screaming, the terminal quiet, trying to gauge if she’d transform into an akuma.

“I don’t understand, I didn’t even  _ do _ anything this time,” Chloe almost tripped over her bag behind her.

The attendant screamed again, coating herself in purple goop as the akumatization consumed her, and all hell broke loose.

Adrien left his luggage behind as people scattered from the area, ducking behind a ticket counter, thumbing at his miraculous again. Still there. Perfect. He pulled open the back of his hood, and Tikki whizzed out, blue eyes wide. “An akuma? Now?”

“I think it was Chloe’s fault, but she’s saying it’s not.” Adrien laughed fluidly, like he wasn’t in danger, and this was just his day job. A perfect distraction from the horrible feeling in his stomach-- anything to stop thinking about how much damage he’d caused to Marinette. “Anyway. Let’s go?”

“Right. Be careful! Lady Noire isn’t here yet to help you!” She floated closer to his miraculous, giving him a firm nod. He transformed quickly behind the counter, hoping that no one would look behind it for anything, and shot out like a bolt when he heard something crash and someone scream. Mister Bug whizzed his yoyo out in time to pull someone out of the way from the akuma’s tantrum punching.

“Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” The man nodded, thankful that he’d shown up. Mister Bug nodded back, standing forward, his yoyo arcing in a perfect circle as he assessed the situation. He motioned for the man to step back away from the fight, looking for any opening he could take.

The terminal was filled with luggages piling everywhere. For every single punch the akuma took to the floor, a beam emitted from her hand, and a new luggage popped into view from thin air. It barreled into whatever area she tossed it to, the plastic case shattering into pieces, or sliding across the floor. Mister Bug frowned at the sight, a weird amused smile filling his face. Well. This wasn’t the weirdest akuma he’d encountered,  _ honestly,  _ but it was close.

The akuma breathed heavy, her heels clacking on the floor as she looked around for any remaining flyers, her neon purple pencil skirt squeaking as she paced the floor with long strides. Her outfit was more of the same as what she had worn before transforming, other than the colors, with her airline issued hat striped in three different sections. He tried looking for where the akuma could’ve been, frowning to himself when he couldn’t figure it out. Nothing was in her hands… she wasn’t holding any items...

The akuma roared, holding her hat close to her head as she stomped her foot to the ground. “You all deal with your luggage! I’m tired of being treated like a mule! This isn’t  _ fair!” _

Huh. Maybe it wasn’t actually Chloe’s fault. He never would have guessed otherwise.

“Yoohoo! Over here, akuma!” Mister Bug watched slack-jawed at Lady Noire balancing on the butt end of her staff, her tail flicking behind her. Had she gotten here that fast? The other classes had their flights in different terminals… had she been in the same terminal as him? He needed to focus, stamping down the butterflies in his stomach at the sight of her. “Ooh, I love the color pattern. What airline are  _ you _ supposed to represent? You a mascot, or something?”

The akuma turned to his kitty. “My name is Air Faire! If my job has been nothing to me but unfair, then your life will be just the same!”

Mister Bug knocked the incoming onslaught of luggages making its wait to Noire by slinging his yoyo into Air Faire’s fist. Instead, luggage flew exactly a meter off of Noire, slamming into an overhead light and short circuiting the bulb. Noire balked at him, from the other side of the terminal, eyes bugged and wide. “Oh my god, hey Bugaboy! You got here pretty fast!”

Mister Bug laughed at her expression, curling his wrist to bring the yoyo back into his submission, enjoying the way the string swinged and curled to his will. “It’s nice to see you too, little Lady. But you know we shouldn’t lie to akumas, it’s not polite. Her outfit isn’t the best one out there.”

“You’re joking!” Lady Noire cackled, dodging another luggage being thrown her way at mach speed, landing on the handle of a sprawled out luggage on the balls of her feet. She rested her extended staff on the back of her shoulders, hanging her arms off it by the wrist. “I think it’s pretty  _ fly!” _

Mister Bug crinkled his nose at her, threatening to groan despite the danger of the akuma. “Focus. No punning in the terminal.”

“You know what, I think I can even see it on the  _ runway!” _

Air Faire chucked another beam of light in his direction, and he twisted out of the way, ducking behind a counter while Noire laughed hard. He listened to her bo staff hit the floor, and he watched her vault over the akuma, spinning in the air like an acrobat to land on top of his countertop. Scattered documents on the table in front of him went billowing to the floor, and she cocked her head at him, humor glittering in her eyes. He could melt happily, knowing that Noire looked much healthier, so much happier now. “Hello. I would like one ticket to ‘Out Of This Mess’, please.”

He raised a brow. “Round trip or one-way ticket?”

Air Faire roared. “Take me seriously!”

Noire continued, letting her braid billow in the wind like rope as another suitcase went flying behind her. “Is a carryon included?”

“Admit it, you didn’t even try on that one.” Mister Bug slung his yoyo around the akuma, attempting to trap her hands from throwing beams of luggage towards them. She batted the yoyo away like a pebble, sending a luggage barreling towards him when she threw another punch. He ran across the counter tops in the other direction, winding his yoyo up around his wrist, looking for a way to incapacitate the akuma.

He dropped to his calves to skid the rest of the way down the countertops at another throw of a luggage, the handle of the bag clipping the tip end of his hair, flinching at the noise of breaking monitors and rig arms falling to the floor from the impact. He shot out his yoyo again, trying to drop an overhead light at the akuma’s head. She ducked easily from the impact. Hm. No good.

“I guess my career in comedy won’t  _ take off, _ then, will it?” Lady Noire swung at a luggage coming her way, shattering the plastic casing into pieces, sending clothes flying everywhere. Noire squeaked at what looked like a neck pillow hitting her on the face, and she tried batting it off with one of her hands. “Ugh! I hate these things! Get it off! Mayday, mayday! Pilot going down!”

Mister Bug scanned the area, letting Air Faire get distracted by Noire’s batting, looking for anything that would help him without calling out for a lucky charm.

By now, the terminal was mostly clear, with passengers having ran to the opposite terminal where it was safer. Some lingered behind to take photos or videos, most likely tourists trying to catch the action before boarding their flights. He eyed Alya liveblogging, and stifled the urge to roll his eyes. Some people just didn’t take dangerous situations seriously anymore.

He looked behind him to the floor-to-ceiling windows out to the many airplanes waiting at their appropriate finger. An idea struck him hard, remembering the night before, and he had enough time to turn back to Air Faire before he was swinging away from another flying luggage.

“Hey Air Faire, over here!” He skidded again across some counters, in front of the windows, slinging his yoyo taught across his wrist. He watched her turn and stare at him, and screamed in frustration, before sending another beam flying his way. He swung out of the way of the luggages, letting them crash through the glass with a harsh pop, hairline fractures splintering into full on shards.

Noire took it upon herself to come up behind Air Faire who watched the glass shatter, swinging hard enough with her staff to send the akuma flying through the open window, letting her crash down below to the ground. Mister Bug nodded to her, before following down, hooking his yoyo around a ceiling light to act as his anchor as he swung down.

“Nice  _ landing gear!” _

“You’re trying too hard.”

Noire’s smile flashed brilliantly wide as she landed next to him. “Keep her away from the planes, we don’t want her breaking any of it!”

He frowned. “I can just miraculous cure them up if that happens!”

“Well yeah, I know you can fix them, but do you think the French government will let these planes fly if they got damaged in any way, even if you fixed them using the cure?” She made a good point. He turned his head back to Air Faire.

But where was the akuma hiding on her? He couldn’t place it. Nothing about her outfit indicated that it could be there, no hanging jewelry or item in her hand. No pen in her pocket, or a bracelet on her wrist. He frowned at Air Faire, at a loss for what it could be.

Noire tucked her bo staff behind her arm. “I think the akuma’s in her hat.”

“You think so?”

Noire shook her head, worried. “I’m not sure. I didn’t see the akuma enter her hat, but I’m betting it’s in there.”

“Lucky charm!” Well, it was better now than never. His yoyo exploded in colors as the compact opened, dropping a spotted red and black passport into his hand. Mister Bug turned it quizzically, looking for any explanation, tying his yoyo back around his wrist. “Seriously? A passport?”

Noire looked over his shoulder. “What in the world are you going to do with that? You think you have a visa on it?”

He bit back a laugh, leaning into his left leg as he thought it over. “I have no idea.”

Noire laughed. “Give her a papercut, or something?”

“I’ll think about it for a bit.” He watched luggages skid in their direction, and Noire hopped over the giant bags instead of side stepping them like Mister Bug did. Out in the open, it was harder for her to do damage, where the only thing available to her was concrete. But that also meant that Mister Bug couldn’t use his yoyo to get away from incoming attacks, although it would just be easier to duck and roll. He hadn’t played a game of dodgeball in years-- the day was just getting weirder and weirder.

Noire shattered another suitcase with her staff, plastic going everywhere. He shielded his eyes from the shards. At an opening, Noire compacted her staff to a smaller height and ran towards Air Faire, raising her baton high into the air.

At the last moment, Noire twisted out of Air Faire’s way, a suitcase careening toward Mister Bug’s face like a bullet. Mister Bug blocked it by lifting his arms up, hiding behind hardened hexleather armor. He eyed the luggage tag of the suitcase as it fell to the ground, and then back to the passport in his hand, and a lightbulb dinged. Perfect.

Noire slammed the floor underneath Air Faire with the hexsteel baton hard enough to crack through the thick concrete, jumping on her palms to cartwheel out of the way. Air Faire screamed, launching a successful hit to Noire, who landed on her back with a luggage on top of her. 

He needed to act fast. 

He ripped the tag off the suitcase, and pulled his yoyo ready. He slapped the sticky part of the tag onto the back of the passport, and ran to the small sinkhole that Noire had created with her staff, opening the passport up to a random page. He slung it as hard as he could, open, making it weigh as much as possible around the base of his yoyo, slinging it towards her hat.

The hat knocked off easily from the weight of his accurate throw, and the akuma screamed at the papercut all over her face. Bingo. It dropped towards Noire, who scuffled for the hat before Air Faire could reach for it blindly. Noire kicked the luggage off her body with a grunt, tearing through the hat with her claws. The akuma fluttered out of the tear.

“No more akumatization for you, little guy!” Mister Bug pulled his yoyo back, and swiped up on the compact with his fingers. The compact glowed white, and with a final nod to Noire, he whizzed the yoyo forward, capturing the akuma with perfect accuracy from years of practice. He yanked the string back towards him, and the compact collapsed the faux ladybug wings into the akuma, purifying it in the compact.

Bingo.

Noire sighed in relief as he opened the compact and the purified white butterfly popped out, disoriented, twirling lightly into the air and looking for a place to land and rest. Noire laughed and giggled at the butterfly that twirled around her, green eyes twinkling and tail flicking behind her in delight. He grabbed for the lucky charm passport, and struggled for it to unstick from the luggage tag.

“Hey, I need this, let go.” They were way too sticky for their own good. 

“You struggling over there?” Noire laughed at him from across the area of space.

“I’m-- no-- I got it--” He hoped that the passport wouldn’t tear from his superstrength. The tag unsticked horribly loud, squeaking and tearing in his hands.

He tossed the passport into the air, and it exploded into color, miraculous curing everything that had been damaged in the fight.

The employee stumbled over concrete, eyes wide and disoriented as the world dissolved into the color red. He was going to have to take her back to where she was, and hopefully she’d be given a break. She had been right, it probably wasn’t fair to be treated like a mule over and over dispatching luggages for the company. He wondered if she worked overtime.

“Thank god I didn’t have to use my cataclysm,” Noire sighed. “It takes forever to get my kwami to stop complaining.”

Mister Bug laughed. “This was much easier than early morning.”

“Does Hawkmoth not sleep? Why is he so desperate to do this  _ now?”  _ Noire groaned. “I got like, four hours last night.”

“Same here.” He confessed, finding the humor in not being able to tell her that he knew about her predicament. The miraculous on his collar started to beep out warnings. “Nice puns today.”

She shrugged. “Puns make me happy. I like being happy. Being happy makes me happy.”

His smile thinned. “Rough morning, little Lady?”

“It started out okay.” Noire’s hexleather ears betrayed her, flattening on her head. She looked upset about something. “But it hasn’t been the best, yet.”

His miraculous beeped again. “Noire, I--”

“I never got to thank you for consoling me.” She sighed, dipping into her hips with a catlike smile, but it fell a little flat. “Thank you for listening to me cry, Cherry boy. You’re a riot.”

He frowned. “It’s not a problem. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah-- yeah, I’m fine. I’ve gotta go see if everyone’s alright.” She smiled softly, turning her shoulders away from him, gesturing to the open window. “I’ll do a couple of rounds around the terminal, since you can’t keep your transformation on. I’ll take the victim back to the terminal. Enjoy your field trip, Buga’. Don’t get into any trouble, yeah?”

“Y-yeah. You too.” He watched her turn, feeling like he misplaced something. “Keep an eye on the akuma tracker?”

“You know it.” She walked to the employee, away from his earshot. He couldn’t help but sigh at her retreating form, how her tail flicked agonizingly mechanically in short staccato twitches. He wondered what had happened to her over the morning. He wondered if it was something that he could fix. But it looked like no amount of miraculous cure would solve whatever was bothering her.

He slung his yoyo up to the roof of the terminal, and looked for anywhere on the ground level to detransform. Most of the civilians had recognized the burst of red light from the cure to realize that it was alright to go back into the airport, that the akuma had been taken care of. He was glad that Parisians were now getting acclimated to their help.

He dropped down as quietly as he could behind a thick canopy of bushes, transforming quickly and letting Tikki zip out of his miraculous and into his cupped, waiting hands. Tikki yawned. “Two in the same day is always so tiring.”

“Feeling okay, Tee?” He pet her on one of her whiskers, trying to smack a leaf out of his face with another hand. The leaf sprung back into his mouth, and he sputtered. He hoped there wasn’t a bug on that leaf. He was grateful for the face mask, but now there was cotton all over his tongue.

“Just tired.” Tikki rubbed at her eyes, but laughed at the ticklish feeling from his fingers, from the way he continued to sputter at the all of the cotton still in his mouth. “But everything’s good.”

“Do you think you’ll be okay?”

“It’s not the first time my miraculous holder has had to fight more than one akuma in the same day.” She continued to giggle. “I’ll be okay, Adrien, I promise.”

“I’ll get you some food. Marinette gave me a cookie earlier today. It’s in my backpack.”

Tikki went silent. “Adrien, why didn’t you give her the scarf you worked so hard on?”

“I couldn’t give it to her.” Adrien confessed. He pulled the face mask down, so that he could be able to speak without her thinking he was mumbling. “It didn’t feel right to get Marinette something and talk about how I loved her when I having feelings for Noire, too.”

Tikki looked like she was ready to go completely sympathetic. “Adrien,”

“Seriously, Tee. I couldn’t do it. How would I look at Noire in the face and say that I don’t love her? I heard her confess to the akumatized Adrien last night, but who knows if she meant romantically. But I’m not going to let that stop me, I need Noire to know. I need Noire to know that she’s my… my best friend.” Adrien frowned. “I need Noire to know that I don’t want to sleep without her ever again. That feeling sucked.”

“Then-- then-- go out there and tell her!” Tikki raised her hands up, eyes shiny even through her exhaustion. “She’s still patrolling out there, isn’t she? Go find her!”

“Should I? Now?”

Tikki nodded. “You’re going to be miserable during the whole field trip if you don’t.”

“You’re right. I’ll do it.” Adrien nodded as well, but more to himself. “Thanks, Tee. I’ll get you your cookie.”

“I’ll be in your hoodie if you need me.” She zipped from his hands, burying herself into the soft hood. He hoped it wouldn’t be awkward for him to step out of the bushes, but he had to come out sometime. He checked his corners out of precaution. There was no one around. He walked unashamed towards the walk-in door, to the line that had already formed back into the baggage deposit area. Parisians worked hard, and had almost no time for akumas.

Maybe the airport was just used to this kind of problem, and had learned to just continue after an akuma had been defeated.

Noire was in the middle of the crowd, near Alix, poking her head around people’s shoulders and asking them if they were alright. Nino caught Adrien’s eyes and flagged him down, to which Adrien was grateful for, because otherwise he would’ve had to have come up with some excuse to the other people in the line as to why he would need to cut them.

He tried being respectable as possible as he crossed almost the entirety of the line. His long legs helped him step over the velvet rope, over to where his luggage and backpack was. He slung the backpack back onto his shoulder, careful not to squish Tikki, and tightened the straps.

“Is everyone okay?” Noire poked her head through Kim’s shoulder.

“We’re missing Nathaniel.” Rose frowned, going worried. “Do you think he’s okay?”

“Nathaniel?” Noire tilted her head. “Oh, the boy who turned into Evillustrator, right?”

Evillustrator. Nathaniel had turned into an akuma when Chloe had stepped all over his sketchbook of drawings he’d done of him and Marinette, and he’d gotten so sad at all the ridicule that he’d turned into one of the earliest akumas he could remember.

It had been one of the few times that Noire had actually had to step down for the week, saying that her life had been far too busy for her to keep up the superhero work. It had been a real struggle to fight the akuma without her, as he wasn’t quite ready to fight battles without having a partner with him. He was a novice at the time. And Marinette had clearly noticed. He hadn’t been able to stop stammering throughout the entire night as they used her as bait to lure out the akuma.

It was surprising to him that Noire recognized Nathaniel as Evillustrator. She had mentioned that she kept up with all the akumas, once, reading the Ladyblog religiously to see if she’d missed something during the fights. Maybe she’d remembered one of the few akumas she’d missed, too, so that she wouldn’t be caught off guard if it ever happened again.

Adrien searched the line for Marinette, wondering if she was worried about where Nathaniel had run off to. He frowned when he couldn’t find Marinette, looking over Kim’s shoulders to see if she was behind somebody tall. No. There was nothing. Marinette was no where to be found, her pink luggage and backpack resting up against the velvet curtain.

“Red hair, really sweet, is always drawing on his tablet? Best friends with Marinette, almost?” Alix rolled her eyes. “Yeah, him. Wait! Lady Noire, let me take a photo with you. Please? You’re my favorite superhero.”

“One selfie allowed, please.” Noire teased, allowing Adrien’s classmates to group around her. She lifted her hands up into peace signs, blinding smile wide, crowded by everyone flanking her and trying to get into the shot. Alix lifted her phone up, snapping the photo. 

Alix yelped when Noire spun her into a hug, letting her snap as many photos as she wanted, posing for another phone that Kim took out almost immediately when she placed Alix on her shoulder and flexed her other arm. With Alix on her shoulder, the two of them finally reached a normal height of a person. Adrien hated that he wanted to laugh at that. 

Alix jumped down from her shoulder after a couple of photos, face tomato red. Noire turned to Kim, who showed her the photos, and she nodded appreciatively. “When I find Nathaniel for you guys, we can take another one. He’d be really upset if he found out that he’d missed this, I bet.”

“Marinette is missing, too.” Adrien blurted out without realizing. His classmates turned to stare at him with amused looks, and in any other circumstance he would’ve blushed.

Noire’s shoulders sagged. “Short asian girl?”

“Pink leggings.” Adrien tacked on. “Hair in dutch braids.”

“Dutch braids, huh?” Alix smirked.

Adrien stuck his tongue out at her, even though she couldn’t see it behind the mask. “Shut up.”

“I’ll find her.” Noire nodded, turning a soft smile to his classmates. “I’ll be back soon. Try not to get into trouble.”

“Can I come with you?” Adrien’s voice faltered under the well-meaning snickering of his classmates. “I-- please?”

Noire’s mouth thinned. “Uh, I’m not sure that’s a--”

Nino butted in before she could finish. “I think it’s best if he goes with you, Lady Noire, the boy’s got a fat case of ‘Crushing’ on that girl. He’s not going to be able to sit still knowing she’s gone, trust me.”

Noire stiffened. “Yeah. Alright. I guess it’ll be fine. I hope you won’t mind the looks people are going to give us as we look for her.”

Adrien groaned internally. He hoped he could tell her about his crush without having to mention the Marinette problem. But still, he was worried for what had happened with Marinette. He nodded to her, and stepped out of the line with her, following her thin form as they crossed the terminal.

* * *

She spun her compacted baton between her fingers as she walked, constantly looking around for any recognizable faces. Adrien looked with her, using his height as an advantage, looking for Marinette. 

He hoped that she hadn’t run off because of him. Was that selfish to assume? 

He’d seen her cry about their relationship souring. It was safe to assume that she still wasn’t exactly over it, but it felt wrong to feel like she was that affected over it. Marinette never had liked him, had she? His classmates had said the opposite, but he didn’t believe it.

“I hope we can find them soon.” Adrien tried for conversation, stuffing his hands hard into the front pocket of his hoodie.

“Yeah, me too.” Noire muttered under her breath.

Adrien glanced over to her as they passed the water fountain. “Kitty? Is everything okay?”

Noire’s domino mask pinched as she frowned, not exactly facing him. “Yeah.”

“Are you lying?”

“No.”

“You’re lying a little. I can tell.” He tried for humor. “Cat got your tongue or something?”

“Adrien, I know that-- I-- Hm.” She struggled to keep her straight face. “Stop trying to make me laugh, I’m trying to be serious.”

“Did I do something wrong, Noire?”

“Hold that thought.” She hit the back end of her baton down, extending the height to take her up a good two meters. She balanced with near-perfection equilibrium on the other end of the batton, the only thing twitching her tail. Those who were close to them looked up and quieted, pointing at the black smudge looking around. 

Noire took a deep breath in, and her voice carried throughout the entire building, “Citizens of Paris and those who aren’t! The miraculous cure should have fixed everything! But since there was a crowd, and many people ran off, it’s possible that some people haven’t realized that it’s okay to come back inside. If you’re missing anyone from your group, talk to me about it. I’ll be here for the next hour, or so. That’s all!”

She flipped back onto the floor after repeating her words in English, before finally ending in Mandarin. She landed on her feet, the smart kitty, and her baton compacted just enough to land next to her shoulder. Her green eyes searched for anyone who needed help, lifting up a finger to him when he spoke.

“Noire, can we talk about it?” He tried again anyway.

“Hold on.”

Noire’s ears perked up and her head swiveled, looking into the small bakery at the end of the terminal. He looked up with her, to the bakery, and watched silently as Nathaniel paid for something at the counter. 

They walked close enough to the little shop to hear him hum something of a song under his breath as he collected his food. Noire’s tail flicked, crossing her arms across her chest, extending her baton so that she could place her weight onto one hip without falling over. Nathaniel thanked the employee at the register, and turned, nearly dropping his food in surprise at the sight of them.

“Uhm.” It was an appropriate expression to have when Noire was in a sour mood.

“Do you know where Marinette is?” Adrien butted in before Noire could scold him.

Nathaniel flushed red at the stare Noire gave him, turning an apple in his hand and clutching his paper bag to his chest. “I-- we ran off this way, when the akuma started. We went our own way when I caught sight of the food, but the last time I saw her was this way.”

“Did you really have to stop for a croissant?” Noire humphed, tail lashing. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that you were offered food already.”

“H-how did you--” Nathaniel was turning as red as his hair.

“Alya, the girl who owns the Ladyblog, was eating a cookie out of a glassine sleeve.” She raised a brow behind her mask. “I saw Juleka and Rose eating a cookie together, too. It looks like they were all from the same place.”

“B-but--”

“Were you not given cookies?”

Nathaniel sighed, lip quivering. “No, I was. Marinette brought those in. I went to go ask her for another one and all the was left is chocolate chip.”

What? Adrien tilted his head in confusion. “Do you not like chocolate--”

Nathaniel smiled weakly. “Everyone in class knows that they’re your favorite, Adrien. She brought them for you.”

Noire groaned and rolled her eyes, waving her free hand around, scowling at him. “Oh my god. Go back to your class, Nathaniel, they’re all worried about you. Scram! Get!”

His eyes widened. “Oh god. Am-- am I in trouble? Are you going to tell Marinette?”

“No.” Noire sighed, her frown lessening into a exasperated smile. “Maybe.”

“Please don’t tell her. She’ll freak out.”

She deadpanned. “I wonder why?”

“Because Marinette really adores me and always has, and no matter how hard I try to shake her off my proverbial tail she is always there?” Nathaniel clicked his mouth shut. “Uhm. That was rhetorical, wasn’t it?”

Noire’s face pinched. “Hm. I was just worried something happened to you, that’s all. Wouldn’t want you to turn into an akuma again behind my back or something. Glad to know that you’re safe.”

Nathaniel nodded, shying into his paper bag. “Sorry.”

“Go on before I steal your croissant as my reward. Actually. Give me the apple.” She flexed her fingers at him, hexsteel claws shining in the overhead light. 

“B-But I--”

Noire groaned to herself, her ears sagging against her head. “You’re right. That was too mean.”

“You’re acting very strange, Noire.” Nathaniel’s eyebrows pinched. “Are-- is-- you okay? Between you two?”

Adrien tried not to go dry as Noire apologized to him. “I’m sorry. I’m a little agitated and upset, and I didn’t mean to bully you.” 

“I-it’s okay. You sound exactly like Marinette when she’s frustrated-- a-and I didn’t think you were going to actually steal my food. But-- I mean-- for your troubles…” Nathaniel nodded again, face completely flushed, and tossed her the fruit anyway. He tucked his food to his chest as he power walked back to the ticket desk, making sure not to make eye contact with her as she passed. 

Adrien turned to watch him walk off, hopeful that Nathaniel wouldn’t burst into an asthma attack over being mock-threatened by one of the Heroes of Paris.

“Maybe you should go back, Adrien. I can go find Marinette myself.” She tucked her bo staff under her chin as she looked up at him, letting her tail flick slowly behind her. Something about her diamond eyes made him feel melancholy.

“I feel like I’ve done something wrong.” Adrien tried, shifting his backpack on his back to feel better.

“I’m a little hurt.” She confessed. At the lack of a clear response from him, she grabbed for his wrist as best as she could, her fingers tiny and claws in the way. She led him outside the terminal, to the drop-off area, where they could sit on a secluded bench away from tourist eyes.

She sat him on the bench, mouth pinched in a frown.

Their backs were against the wall, and no one could see them there unless they purposely looked over the corner. No one made their way out to this side of the wall, and it was apparent by the many cigarette butts on the floor, that it was a smoking zone bench. He hoped he wouldn’t smell of it when he went back inside.

She sat down, legs spread out in front of her, watching him pull off his backpack. She tossed the apple back and forth between her paws like an animal playing with her food. “You-- uh. You didn’t give her the scarf, did you?”

“Did you know it was Marinette this entire time?”

“I figured it was after a bit,” She twisted her baton between her fingers. “I figured it was her when I started teasing you about the date, and you kept blushing. I didn’t want to believe it, thinking you were just embarrassed because I was pulling your leg, but I ultimately did. Is she really the girl you’ve had a crush on?”

“Yeah. I wanted to give it to her, just like I promised you.” He pulled the fabric out after a long pause, holding the softness in his hands. All the countless lines and hours he’d put into making the scarf look as best as he could. “But I couldn’t do it.”

“Why couldn’t you?” Noire sighed, looking up at him with huge green eyes. “D-did you get doubts? Did she say something wrong? Did you realize that she’s annoying? Did she spit on you? Did you realize you hate her? Did--”

Pfft. As if.

He couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “No, no. She’s fine. I just don’t like  _ her _ as much as I like  _ you, _ Kitty.”

Noire flinched, her baton snapping into a resting position in her palm. “Wait. Hold it. Did you say--  _ me--” _

He sat down next to her, cradling the scarf in his hands. “I like  _ you, _ Noire.”

The anxiety in his chest fizzled out, leaving nothing in his chest. He watched her diamond pupils blow into circles, then back to slits, as she glanced around nervously, looking for a video camera indicating that this was a prank.

“Me? I’m the--  _ I’m _ the other?-- Hold-- wait-- this wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen--”

“Please hear me out, kitty.”

“I-- whoa-- wait--”

“Please.” He tried again. “I’m not pulling at your leg. Let me finish before you respond, I-- I want to do this right.”

She quieted with a worried look, hexsteel claws tapping at her thighs. She nodded after pausing briefly, indicating for him to continue, her tail swishing as she thought.

He stretched his legs out too, watching just how further they went than Noire’s. He leaned back into his seat, letting his arm hang over the back of the bench. “So, I used to have this huge crush on Marinette, ever since we first met. Probably the second day, if I’m being honest. There was a misunderstanding where she thought I pulled a prank on her when it was actually Chloe. Marinette surprised me that day. She was expressive, and stood up for her friends. She was angry at me for trying to start something I hadn’t done.”

Noire shifted to put a knee under her chin, twitching and trying to keep still but failing.

“And I developed a crush on the first girl who had yelled at me in my life. It’s silly.” Adrien tried snorting, but it came out as a full laugh. “Marinette has been my shark problem ever since we were fourteen years old. And that was... the first day I met you, too. Master Fu had given me the wrong miraculous, but it was too late to change them. I was useless with my yoyo, and we got tied together. All you did was laugh.”

He glanced her way, trying not to let his eyes catch on her stiff posture. Her eyes widened when she understood what he said, her head whipping to him, her braid falling over her shoulder. She gaped at him, searching his clothes for what he presumed was his miraculous. “Hold on! Wh-- wait-- what did you say?”

He continued, barrelling over her as she stiffened into stone in her spot. “When you dropped into my room that first night a year ago, I thought you’d found out my secret. I mean, it was  _ obvious _ that I had no idea what I was doing compared to you. You’ve trained your entire life for this, and I was just the unlucky guy who got wrapped into this mess. It was only time you’d figure out who I was.”

“I--  _ you--” _

“I was so convinced that you were coming into my room because you’d found out about who I was, that you were going to tell me something about how I needed to be more careful-- but you never did. You had come in to scold me for trying to get The Bubbler’s attention off of you.”

That night he’d experienced true fear. Noire had looked almost as livid as Marinette had been when arguing with him about the prank on the first day of school. She’d looked conflicted, and worried about him, like he was a real civilian and not someone who had been trying to help her out outside the costume because he hadn’t found a corner to transform in. She’d ranted and raved the moment he had unlocked his window for the first time, and she’d stormed around his room telling him that it was dangerous, that he could’ve gotten hurt.

He sighed, and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Noire. I shouldn’t have kept my identity a secret from you. I should’ve told you that day that you came in who I was, but I never did. I fell in love with you while still holding the secret of my identity. I should’ve told you. But I didn’t want to lose you.”

His hands fisted the scarf in his hands, trying not to ball it up and throw it away.

“You’ve never been seaweed to me. I have always loved you, and I didn’t want to admit to that.” He frowned to himself. “The nightmare last night made me realize that I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t live happily, knowing that I could’ve told you the truth but didn’t. I couldn’t try dating anyone else, knowing that I needed to tell you how I felt. When we woke up from sleeping, I realized that I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep without you. I can’t. I don’t want to.”

Noire was silent for a long while. The only indication that he got from her that mentioned that she was actively still listening, and processing information, was the way that her tail flicked and swayed on her side of the bench.

Adrien couldn’t look at her in the eye. He body was exhausted, knowing that he probably looked as bad as he felt. 

Had he ruined this relationship, too? Had he, in the span of three hours, lose two people that were important to him? Had he lost the most important person in his life? He wouldn’t know what to do if Noire got up and left him. 

How would he be able to face his classmates, knowing that not only did he give up on a relationship with Marinette, he’d lost a relationship with Noire too? What would he do? How could he continue being Mister Bug, knowing that Noire couldn’t look at him in the eyes? Would they ever be a team again? Would Noire walk away and never look back?

He didn’t even have the energy to cry. He was so emotionally tired, battered from last night’s akuma, too exhausted to keep up with the sadness that brewed in his chest. If Noire ended up walking away from him, he’s not sure he would be able to recover.

“Sunshine?”

A vague collection of hope brewed in his stomach from the nickname. “Y-yeah?”

“A-are you really Mister Bug?” Her eyes looked in his direction, scrutinizing his outfit.

“Yes, I-- I am.” He paused. “Noire? You look like you’re going to pass out.”

She gasped, finally, clutching at her chest. “Oh my god. I might, just a little bit. I’m overwhelmed. Adrien-- you-- are you  _ sure _ you’re Mister Bug? You’re not lying to me, are you? This would make everything just too easy-- like a TV show--”

Too easy? Make what too easy? He patted his chest, toward his collar where the two earrings sat, eyebrows pinching at her dry heaving. “They’re right here.”

Noire made a noise in the back of her throat, shifting in her seat. She clutched tight at her collar, looking around wildly, thinking something that he didn’t understand.“W-what about Tikki? Where is she?”

He pulled his hood open, and Tikki appeared. She came into Adrien’s cupped hands, and waved at Noire. “Hey, Princess.”

_ “Tikki?” _ Noire squealed, hiding her gaping mouth behind her hands. “Oh-- oh my god-- you really are Mister Bug?”

He looked up to try to catch Noire’s eyes, but instead stopped at the way she shifted too much on the bench seat, and wondered if she was having a panic attack. “Kitty?”

“I feel like I’m going to throw up-- oh-- oh my god how could we have-- I need to detransform, dear god--” She hissed to herself. “Is-- is there anyone around?”

He looked behind him to the road, to anyone who could be passing by. There was nothing and no one in the area, just them on the bench. He looked over the corner to where the doors they had come out of, and there was no one nearby. He reached over to her, holding her shoulders lightly, grabbing for her hair to pull out of the way if she did throw up. Tikki hovered in the air, a concerned look on her face. “No, it’s just us--”

“Okay, good,” She nodded, out of breath. “Plagg, oh my god-- claws  _ in.” _

Adrien stiffened in his seat as green light burst across his closed eyelids, and the braid in his hand disappeared. Noire sagged against him, her shoulder digging into his bicep, her breathing heavy.

“Plagg!” She stamped her foot after a pause for breath.

“That wasn’t me.”

“Yes it was, that has  _ never  _ happened, oh my god-- since when could you make me feel claustrophobic in my own costume?” Noire got up, away from his hands. He felt her fingers prod at the ends of his shoulders, her thumbs rubbing circles across a small patch of his sweater. “Why’d you do that, Plagg?”

Her kwami huffed. “I’m telling you, Princess, I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re totally lying to me, Plagg. I could feel the ring burning-- you were actively trying to get out of the ring-- don’t  _ do that--” _ Noire continued to bicker. “I could’ve had a heart attack!”

Plagg whined. “He’d confessed! Bingo bango! It was time for you to show yourself!”

“You are horrible, little chef, absolutely horrible. You should feel bad. I could’ve died!”

“Come on, Princess, it’s not that bad.” Tikki laughed. “It’s a perfect story!”

“We’ll talk about this later, Plagg, I’m not done with you.” Noire turned to him, wiping her bare thumb across the bottom of his lids, a smile clear in her voice. “Adrien-- Adrien-- you can look, it’s okay. Open your eyes.”

“A-are you sure?” Why were his hands shaking so hard? What was he afraid of?

Noire laughed. “Yes. Yes. Please look at me, Adrien. It’s okay.”

She peeled his hands away from how they hugged his face, and smiled at him sweetly.

Marinette had freckles. But he already knew that.

“Marinette? All this time? Kitty, why didn’t you--” Adrien’s eyes widened. He crushed her into a hug. “What? Why didn’t you tell me when I-- when-- you-- I made you  _ cry!” _

“You caught me off guard!” She laughed into his chest, squeezing just as tight. “How was I supposed to tell the guy I liked that I was his best friend while he was trying to turn me down?”

* * *

“Oh no, absolutely not.”

“Why not?” She grinned at him, trying to get comfortable in her seat. Well.  _ His _ seat. He rolled his eyes at her, but couldn’t make himself keep the stern look on his face.

“I was gone for two minutes.” He gestured to the bathroom door less than half a meter away. Curse his stupid long legs and making him hit his knee caps on the entire door while trying to sit down in an egg of a bathroom. Or turn around. Or press the flush handle button thing. Or try to wash his hands. Or try to open the door up without taking out his nose. His kneecaps were wounded and sore, even with the thick denim fabric that covered them. No wonder everyone complained about being in coach during flights. His suit was  _ less  _ claustrophobic than the bathroom. Who would’ve guessed?

But he couldn’t complain. This was the first trip he’d be taking with out any supervision. It made him want to go wild with it, the way that Noire went wild during akuma attacks, like none of her responsibilities carried over when wearing a domino mask. He wanted to jump and shout and eat food at the wrong time of the day just for the hell of it.

He wanted to go batshit--  _ catshit?-- _ with how the feeling in his chest was light and perfect and twinkling with stars.

And he certainly couldn’t complain, being able to hug Marinette tight to his chest and feel like he could stay in that position for the rest of his life. Even with the tight fit with the bathroom, and his legs crimped up, and the bagel they’d served had been stale-- Marinette was here. Marinette.  _ Marinette. _

Kitty.

“You took too long.” She shrugged at him, spectacular twinkles in her eyes. She was an entire ball of blankets, using the two complimentary ones that had been on their seats as padding to keep her waist from digging too hard into the arm rest she couldn’t make budge, the one against the wall. She’d brought her own blanket from home-- smart kitty-- and had stuffed it into her backpack. He was dating a ball of blankets.

He couldn’t be happier.

She was wearing his scarf he made for her, too. It was somewhere on her. Preferably on her neck to keep her warm, but he couldn’t tell where her body began underneath the swaddle of blankets. She radiated comfort, most likely the only person to ever exist that could sit comfortably in her airplane seat.

“Scoot over. I beg you.”

She hummed, eyes twinkling in mischief. “I wanna sit in the aisle seat.”

“I told you you wouldn’t like the view from the window, kitty.” He pointed to the window that was pitch black. In all honesty, he was so happy that Marinette had decided to ask the employee at the desk for a window seat. By the time he had shown up to the counter, all the way at the back of the line, he was given whatever seat was left. He’d traded with Mylene when he found out that she wanted to sit with Ivan and Max. Which was  _ great. _ They now had their own two-seater row.

Marinette had gotten the very last window seat in the very last row at the very back, completely parallel to the bathroom. Which was great-- because  _ bathroom, _ and Marinette always drank too much water than she should, he’d found out-- but bad, because everyone in their class by now had made their way down the aisle and caught the two of them snuggling and holding hands. 

Nathaniel had looked absolutely scandalized by it, as if he was a young victorian woman seeing the sight of an ankle for the first time. Marinette had cackled, sending Nathaniel flirtatious winks when he passed by again. He refused to look at her in the eye.

She’d explained it was a mutual joke between the two after Adrien questioned why she was bullying him, claiming that Nathaniel and her had bonded over their moment during Evillustrator to always tease each other mercilessly. 

It explained a lot more of what had happened over the course of the year, those months ago when he’d hide behind his sketchbook whenever they made eye contact. She also told Adrien to not ever ask Nathaniel about the ice-cream incident if he wanted to continue dating her.

Adrien was very curious. Very very curious about the way she ducked her head in shame, into her blanket. But he let the conversation be for now, knowing that he’d have to chat Nathaniel up about it, knowing that he would be delighted to get any leverage on Marinette.

“How was I supposed to know that it was going to be dark out?” Marinette sniffed.

He raised a brow, not impressed with her fake crying skills. He’d seen her cry for real, and this didn’t compare. “Because I told you? When we sat down? While I was putting my backpack up here?”

“No. That’s too simple.” She scrunched her nose, slipping the window shutter shut behind her. She had to reach far for it-- her arms were too short to reach from the second chair. She curled her knee under her chin, staring at him with what would be innocent eyes, if it wasn’t for the humor that glittered in there too. “There’s got to be more to it.”

“Because you’re stubborn?” He tried again, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pocket. He couldn’t feel his hands.

“Me? Stubborn?” She gasped.

Adrien tried not to wake the other couples seated in the rows in front of them with his laughter. “Let me sit, little Lady. I’m freezing. My hands are turning into ice. Not to mention my feet.”

She gave him a knowing look. “Did you forget your socks?”

“Sorry, I was too busy worrying about  _ you _ to worry about myself.” He rolled his eyes. He nudged her with a knee. “Come on, let me in. I got four hours of sleep in, I had a little kitty wake me up an hour before my alarm was set to go off-- I cried, what, twice? Three times?-- and I used my lucky charm twice in the past twelve hours. I’m done for. Let me in the blanket.”

He could see the gears turning in her head at the prospect of cuddling with him some more. Ultimately, she shook her head, placing a small hand on the tray in front of her to stop him from climbing over her and accepting his grim fate as a window seater. “There is a toll! You must pay it before crossing.”

“Ugh. Get a room, you two.” Alix slipped out of her own row to go to the bathroom, staring at Adrien with narrowed eyes while still wedged into her neck pillow.

“How do you wear that thing?” Marinette grimaced, distracting Alix from monologuing about how they were the most sappiest couple to ever exist. “That thing feels like a death trap.”

“It’s like a hug to the neck.” Alix tried looking down, but laughed to herself when she couldn’t move her head. She unclipped the pillow, and tossed it back into her row, and Kim  _ oofed! _ quietly in his sleep. “Get some sleep, Marinette. Your makeup is smearing off. I can see the bags under your eyes. How are you even awake?”

Marinette blushed, hiding her face in her blankets, trying to hide her caking foundation.

“She had coffee.” He tried to explain. 

He understood now why Noire-- and, well, Marinette-- was so tired all the time. Perpetually drinking coffee to stay awake, but never being able to sleep on time because of all the caffeine in her system. There was no stopping Marinette’s addiction to caffeine, and Plagg’s energy in the suit didn’t help her at all. He was thankful that she crashed on his couch whenever she needed to. And he was completely thankful that he could keep a better eye on her now. Even if it was the emotional equivalent to trying to stop a tornado from moving.

He was so tired.

“You idiot.” Alix’s smile curled, poking him in the side, stepping over his long calves. “Well, enjoy trying to curb her. Good luck, you’re going to need it. She’s your responsibility now.”

He leaned over to Marinette, letting Alix pass behind him to use the cubical that was the bathroom. Maybe she’d fit inside there better than he did, it was more likely. He was too much leg. He turned to Marinette when the bathroom door shut, shaking his head in quiet laughter. “What’s the toll I have to pay?”

She pursed her lips in thought. “Hmmm. Give me something that you think I deserve. Make it count! Or else you won’t be able to come through.”

Well, that wouldn’t be too hard to think about.

He gave her a kiss on the forehead. 

She beamed at him when he pulled back, blush heavy and coating her freckles, and scooted across to her seat at the window, giving him space to sit down. She pulled his laptop back onto her lap to let him settle into his seat, and he did with joy. He angled his legs out to the side where he could get more space, grumbling at his kneecaps hitting the chair in front of him. 

He gladly took her hands in his when she offered it, and she hissed under her breath from the coldness of his palms. She squeezed him when the airplane went through gusts of turbulence, laughter breathless in her mouth. He wouldn’t trade this for the world.

“Do you want to finish the movie, sunshine?” She snuggled into his shoulder as well as she could.

He smiled down to her, shivering at how soft her hand movements were as she touched his miraculous, safely secure as two tiny broches on his sweater collar. It felt right watching her miraculous come into contact with his as she played with the strings of his hoodie. “Let’s be real, we weren’t watching it anyway.”

He’d come to find that Marinette was  _ handsy. _ Constantly holding his hand, or arm-- anything she could grab onto-- she held. When they’d finally made their way back to their classmates, she was beaming and towing him behind her, and he was  _ so thankful _ for his facemask that hid most of the blush that was occupying his entire face. 

Alya had asked them if they were okay, and Adrien had felt the semi-hostility in her voice. The moment that Marinette nodded and said that everything was  _ wonderful, _ it only took a few minutes before Alya had made her way down the entire class like an old-fashioned gossip chain.

And Marinette couldn’t stop holding his hands. She was infatuated with them, it felt like. Running her fingertips along his knuckles, her thumb drawing soft circles into the flesh between his forefinger and thumb.

The moment that the plane took off, she squeezed his hands tight enough to make his fingers audibly crack, and she’d almost bit into his bicep to hold down a short yelp when the plane jolted down.

He’d been used to Noire’s incessant need to bite at him when they play fought, but he hadn’t been ready for Marinette to still do it, too. He was too caught off guard to mention it to her, and she apologized profusely after the plane had settled and she’d detached from his hand.

Max surely had an explanation for the reason why the plane went through turbulence while taking off, but Adrien couldn’t find it in himself to ask, instead choosing to grab for her hands instead. Kissing the back of her palm felt natural.

“Speak for yourself, Mister.” She poked at his neck with a painted fingernail. “I was watching the movie! I don’t have to be watching it to watch it.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” She reached over to headbutt him under his chin, having to shift in her seat to change the way she sat so that she could reach him. He assumed that she was sitting on her calves now, but he couldn’t tell from all the blankets. She hummed at the back of her throat, her cheek rubbing against his collarbone. It took him a moment to realize that it was the closest she could do to a purr.

“You’ve watched this movie before?”

She hummed into his sweater. “If I’d known that the inflight entertainment wouldn’t have the cartoon movie they made about us, I would’ve complained to the CEO of the airline company already. I love that movie. It’s an international sensation.”

He laughed. “How many times have you watched it?”

“Too many times.” She admitted, pulling away, leaning back against the wall and letting him follow with her and collapse on her.

“Let me guess who your favorite is.” His voice went slightly dry.

“Sue me. I like catboys.” She snorted, burying her face into his hair. 

“You wouldn’t be able to handle the heavy intricacies of a catboy.”

“As if  _ you _ can do better!” She giggled. “But you’re not one to talk. I know for a fact that yours is Ladybug.”

“She’s  _ cute.”  _ Of course he would like the character that reminded him of Marinette. Why would he pick otherwise? The girl was sporadic, and completely off the charts wild, reminding him so clearly of his kitty.

“Sure.” She placed his laptop into the front pocket, mindful of not kicking her backpack from underneath the chair in front of her where their kwamis were. She reached through with one of her hands between the layer of blanket, petting at his scalp in a way that made his toes tingle. “But we can watch the rest of the movie later.  _ Someone’s _ sleepy.”

“I hope you’re talking about me.” He closed his eyes, resting his head on what he assumed was her shoulder. He couldn’t really tell.

She laughed quietly into his hair, kissing his hairline. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I’m not sure. But I’d be offended if you said it was you.”

She sighed to herself, but humor still coated her voice. “You’re right. This brain of mine doesn’t sleep ever. It’s a curse.”

“It’s the coffee.” He reasoned with her, and they both went silent as Alix passed by.

She giggled into his ear when Alix sat down, away from earshot. “It’s the reason why I will always be the one to hold the cataclysm.  _ You _ try making big explosions with your lack of energy.”

“And  _ you _ try making lucky charms during an akuma.” He squirmed to get comfortable, hands tucked into his hoodie. “Maybe that’ll make you sleep more.”

“I prefer to just break things when I fight. It’s funner.” He shivered at the kisses she peppered onto his forehead. “Besides, as much as I would love to see you wearing my suit, I don’t think you have the skills for it.”

“I can make cat puns.”

“See? There’s more than that to becoming the cat miraculous holder.”

“Like what? Insane flexibility? I have that.” Although he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do yoga as well as her.

She hummed. “You’re not selling me on the whole ‘Mister Bug doesn’t secretly work in the circus’ thing we talked about months ago.”

He snorted. “Well, now I can guarantee you one hundred percent that I don’t work at the circus.”

“Hm. Sounds like what someone from the circus would say.”

“Where would I even be if I was a part of the circus?” Maybe a strongman, or something?

“Oooh, you just set yourself up for this joke,” She dissolved into giggles, and gasped quietly when he hushed her from being too loud. It was hard for people away from them to hear them over the sound of the plane engines, but they wanted to be courteous anyway. They didn’t want to wake up anyone in the rows in front of them, even though the chances were still low. Alix would have a fit, and as much as it would be funny seeing Marinette and Alix bicker, he didn’t want to do it at the equivalent of it being too early in the morning for it. “You’d be in the  _ clown _ section!”

He didn’t have the heart to get up from the comfort of her chest to make a face. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to respond to that. Get comfy. I’m not moving from my spot once I fall asleep.”

“And you weigh like the dead.”

She’d carried him a couple of times before, back when Adrien refused to get out of the way of akumas and tried to take them on while still in his civilian attire. It drove Noire nuts when he did it, and he had been picked up multiple times as she bickered with him to stay out of the way, and then continued to complain about how he weighed a lot more than he looked. It was a shame that she probably wouldn’t carry him again. Unless he asked.

He nodded in agreement. “And I weigh like the dead.”

They went for ten seconds before she spoke again. “Can I ask for a favor?”

“I already did you a favor today earlier in the morning.”

“Did not. Also, this one is a thousand times more important.”

He tried not to laugh. “Please tell me you don’t need to use the bathroom.”

“I swear to you I didn’t drink more water.”

“This sounds like a scam.”

“Get up for me, I want to give you something. I promise you you’ll like it. I promise, I promise. If you don’t like it, you can give it back.”

He lifted his head and turned to face her, wiping at his tired eyes. His eyes widened at Marinette coming closer, and his lips parted at the sensation of Marinette pressing up to him, her eyes slipped shut. She kissed him soft enough for it to tickle, her warm hands cupping either side of his face, and he melted into her touch. Her miraculous was cold against his cheek as she pressed a kiss into him.

He’s kissed her before, back when Dark Cupid was running around Paris. He already knew that Marinette’s lips were soft and sweet.

But now it was different. He registered the kiss slowly like he was being defrosted. He kissed back just as softly, letting Marinette control when to pull away, letting his eyes slip closed without his permission. He hoped she could his happiness in the kiss.

She pulled away almost as quickly as she had began, her cheeks stained permanently red. He blinked wide, surprise forming on his face. He laughed breathlessly, feeling his own blush work its way up his neck.

“‘Give it back if I don’t like it’, huh?” He couldn’t stop chuckling.

“I told you you’d like it.” She placed her forehead on his, smooshing their bangs together.

“I shouldn’t have doubted you.” He wanted to kiss her again. So he did. She giggled under his kisses, her lips pulling at the sides as he kept kissing her over and over again.

She hummed when he finally pulled away. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

She scooted under her blankets, trying to get comfortable without having to sacrifice Adrien’s comfort. She patted her chest with her right hand, encouraging him to lay back down on her, and he went without complaint. Marinette didn’t stir again until the stewardess came by to ask if they wanted drinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This AU will forever and always be dear to me.
> 
> Special thanks to Ace, the person I've gifted this fic to. You're an amazing friend, and I hope this fic did you justice! You deserve the world <3
> 
> Thank you for reading. This fic was my blood and lifeline for two months straight, and I couldn't be happier that we made it to the end. I definitely know how a sequel would go if I were to write it, so who knows? Perhaps we'll get to see this AU again! I certainly wouldn't mind it!
> 
> Thank you for the comments, kudos, and hits. Waking up every day to a new email message about it was such a highlight of my day. I appreciate each and every one of you so much!
> 
> Take care!
> 
> Lots of Love,  
> FragileIzy<3

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna follow me on tumblr? Click [here!](https://fragileizy.tumblr.com)
> 
> Want to join the discord server that I always talk about in my fanfictions? Click [here!](https://discord.gg/uzKvwFb)
> 
> I hope you liked it!
> 
> I post every weekend. See you next week!
> 
> Lots of Love,  
> FragileIzy <3


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